


Coming Home

by RedHeadedWoman



Series: Home Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Feels, Clint Has Issues, Clint Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHeadedWoman/pseuds/RedHeadedWoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Clint Barton, agent of SHIELD, woke panting and covered in a cold sweat in his room. He disentangled himself from his sheets and made his way into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There were deep bags under his eyes and the light sheen of sweat that covered his body was clearly visible under the harsh lights.</i>
</p><p>It's been several months since the Battle of New York and since Clint lost everything. And he is not coping well. At all. Thankfully, his friends aren't going to let him mope. Not for too much longer anyway. </p><p>This is the story of Clint learning how to live with what he's done and what he's lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Not Agents of SHIELD complaint.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [DangerousCommieSubversive](http://dangerouscommiesubversive.tumblr.com//)

There was a soft _thwack_ as the arrow sank deep into the concrete wall, followed by several small prongs to make it stable. A thick cord stretched from the arrow up towards the roof of the opposite building. A dark figure stepped off the roof and used the cord as a zip line.

The figure leapt from the cord a few feet away from the target building, rolled into a landing and came to rest against the wall. He quickly gave the signal for the other members of his team, hidden away awaiting their turn, made quick work of the door lock, and slipped inside. Once he had ensured that the coast was clear, he re-opened the door slightly and gave the second signal. A few seconds later, a second, more feminine, figure appeared and slipped inside next to him.

Almost a full minute later, the man turned towards his companion and raised an eyebrow in question. The woman shook her head and held up five fingers--they would give the third member of the team another five seconds to join them before they would be forced to move one. Four and a half seconds later, a third figure slipped inside, clearly breathless, and they allowed him a short moment to catch his breath before they took up their positions, the woman leading and the two men falling in behind and to either side of her, and began to quietly move down the hallway.

When they reached the doorway they needed, the first man moved forward and picked the lock in the time he had allocated himself. When the door finally opened they resumed their pattern, weapons drawn this time, and moved a little faster than before. In this corridor they did meet resistance--a single armed guard. The threat, though small, was quickly neutralised by the woman and they continued at the same pace. After making their way through another four locked doors they reached their ultimate goal.

The room they found themselves in was large and consisted of a long bench covered in scientific equipment though this was ignored in favour of a small safe set in the far wall. The woman set to work cracking the safe but two minutes later it remained stubbornly locked. The woman was now keeping up a constant stream of muttered obscenities.

The first man broke the silence. ‘Natasha, come on.’

The woman, Natasha, barely resisted the urge to snap at him and instead kept her attention entirely on the damned safe. Another thirty seconds later, the safe popped open. Natasha rifled through the contents of the safe and swore again.

‘It’s not here,’ she announced, and quickly closed it again. The two men glanced at each other.

‘The intel must have been wrong.’ 

‘Barton, you can’t actually believe that,’ the woman snapped. ‘They knew we were coming and moved the package.’

‘Doesn’t matter. We’ve been here too long. Let's move.’ The third man opened the door and they resumed their positions and began the long trek back down the hallways. They only split up once they got outside, to make their escape back to base quicker and a little easier.

Clint wondered how this simple mission had gone wrong, and then remembered that it hadn’t. He, Natasha and Phil had easily acquired the package and gone back to base together and in one piece. So, why was he suddenly making his way back alone and without the package?

A loud bang ripped through the night air, and Clint found himself running towards where he could see smoke and nearly collapsed when he rounded the corner and saw the smoking twisted hunk of metal that had once been a black SUV.

Movement caught his eye off to the side and he hurried over to the slumped figure on the pavement.

As he got closer, he could see that the figure was Phil, the left side of his jacket stained with blood.

Clint’s heart stopped and he fell to his knees beside Phil.

‘Sir? Phil, look at me.’ Clint reached out and took hold of Phil’s hand, squeezing tightly. There was no reaction.

Phil’s eyes were open and glazed over.

There was no doubt.

Phil Coulson was dead.

‘Your … fault …’

Clint staggered away from the lifeless corpse that was looking up at him with dead eyes and speaking through blood flecked lips.

~~~

Clint Barton, agent of SHIELD, woke panting and covered in a cold sweat in his room. He disentangled himself from his sheets and made his way into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There were deep bags under his eyes and the light sheen of sweat that covered his body was clearly visible under the harsh lights.

He splashed water on his face and spread the cool water across his neck and down onto his chest. He took several deep, shuddering breaths and forced his pulse to slow and calm down. Once he knew he was calm, he began to wander around the SHIELD base.

After a while, he found himself entering the gym and was surprised to find Steve Rogers in there pounding away at a punching bag. Clint leant against the wall and watched him for a few moments. Rogers was hitting the bag with an incredible amount of force, and Clint could easily see how he had managed to destroy so many bags. Rogers wasn’t even panting. He was clearly blowing off some steam, and Clint didn’t want to disturb him.

So he waited. He couldn’t quite say why he wanted to wait to talk to Rogers, and he tried not to think about it.

Eventually, Rogers stopped punching and began to unwind the tape from his hands, and finally noticed that he wasn’t alone.

‘Oh, hello, Agent Barton. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’

Clint could have laughed. Rogers was speaking in the same way that he might have spoken to someone higher up than him.

‘Clint, Barton, or Hawkeye, Steve. Not Agent,’ Clint replied easily. He was used to junior agents calling him Agent, and this was his standard response. ‘You can’t sleep either?’

Steve huffed a laugh.

‘Not really. Bad dreams. You?’

‘The same.’ Clint was forced to take another couple of deep breathes,  and watched as Steve started putting his things away. ‘The war?’ Clint asked as casually as he could, choosing to ignore the slight squeak in his voice, and internally cringed when Steve shot him a worried look. Clint smirked at him to ally the obvious worry.

‘Yeah, the war.’ Steve smiled sadly. ‘I dreamed of Bucky, of him falling. It’s the same dream that keeps me up most of the time.’ Steve shrugged and gave him a pointed look.

‘Mine’s nothing, really.’ Steve gave him a sceptical look. ‘Doesn’t matter, Cap.’ Steve only barely managed to hide the disappointed look. Clint caught it all the same; that’s what he’d been trained for after all.

‘If you say so, Clint.’ Steve smiled at him again and Clint couldn’t help feeling a little calmer. ‘May I ask you something?’

‘No need to be so formal. Just ask.’

‘How did you learn to shoot like that? I’ve never seen anyone shoot like you.’ Steve actually seemed genuinely interested.

‘Grew up in a circus. Learnt trick shooting there and, I dunno, it went from there, I guess.’ Clint shrugged and looked around the gym for something to occupy his time.

‘A circus? Really?’

Clint could hear his neck creak as he snapped around to look at Steve and the child like wonder in his eyes.

‘Yeah, a circus.’

Steve’s smile was like a child’s on Christmas morning, full of wonder and joy.

‘Jesus, Cap, it’s not that big a deal.’

‘When I was a kid, my dad would take me to the circus whenever they came through New York. He always said that a circus was somewhere we could go to forget everything that was wrong. We didn’t have much money so every time we heard the circus was coming, we’d save up our money to go. After he died, Bucky would go with me even though he kept saying that it wasn’t a good place to meet girls,’ Steve’s smiled turned a little sad at this point. ‘I suppose circuses are a little different now, though. Back then, everyone expected a freak show to laugh at.’

‘Yeah, freak shows aren’t that popular anymore, Steve. Sorry to say.’

‘Yeah, Bruce was telling me. They were banned in a lot of places, right?’

‘Yep. But last I checked Coney Island still had something.’ Clint toyed with a screw on a piece of equipment.

‘So, what do you think of the team?’

Clint took a moment to think about that.

‘Honestly, Cap, I’m not sure yet.’ Clint glanced at the Captain and saw that he clearly wanted his full and honest opinion. ‘Okay, here's the thing: we aren’t a team, Steve.’ Clint shrugged and turned to face Steve straight on. ‘Bruce is too wary of SHIELD, with good reason, to trust them. He doesn’t like crowds or people, and I’m pretty sure the only reason he turned up in New York was because he’d already been dragged into it by SHIELD and felt some kind of stupid obligation to help out. Which he did brilliantly, but he doesn’t do people or teams for fear of hurting innocent people. Stark is arrogant and way too wrapped up in himself to care about anything or anyone else. And, yeah, okay, he was good in New York and he gets the job done, but I think we both know that Stark isn’t a good idea. Tasha is brilliant and I love her to death, though I _will_ deny it if you say anything, but she will end up killing Stark and I will stand back and watch. Thor spends most of his time in Asgard and we’d have no way of contacting him if he was needed. And although he’s a team player, I don't think I can trust him. You're probably the only one of us even remotely suited to being on a team, and that’s only because you’re a soldier and you _have_ to be a team player. The Avengers won’t work.

Steve was silent for a minute, considering.

‘I think you’re wrong.’ Steve spoke very simply. ‘Bruce does have a problem with crowds and people but I think he can work with us. He and Stark get along amazingly well, probably because they're the only ones that understand each other. Stark is arrogant, and it might take some work, but I believe he could be a wonderful member of the team. Natasha can be a little … scary, but I don't think she’ll kill Stark, and if she does I doubt you’ll just stand back and watch …’

‘No, I’ll help.’

‘… We can work something out with Thor so that we're able to contact him. And, Clint, I know that you have issues with Asgardians, which I understand, but Thor is not his brother.’ Steve cautiously moved closer to Clint, forcing him to keep eye contact. ‘Thor is a good man, and he'd never do what Loki did. I haven’t known him for long, but I can see that not only is he a good man but he's brave, strong, and incredibly kind-hearted. Thor wouldn't hurt any of us. You’re right about me, though. I'm used to being in a team, and I like the dynamic that we’ve already established.

‘Clint, I understand that you and Natasha aren’t used to working in a team with anyone but each other and, I think, Agent Coulson.’

Clint physically recoiled from Steve at the mention of Phil.

Steve smiled sadly at him, again. ‘I am deeply sorry for your loss, Clint. I didn’t know him for long, but he struck me as an honest and passionate man, and I truly wish I'd gotten the chance to know him better. I won’t insult you, or him, by saying that we should at least try to do this in his memory, but I will say that I think he believed in the possibility of this team. But if you don’t want to do this, then I will understand. It would be a damn shame, though.’ Steve clapped a hand onto his shoulder.

Clint, suddenly, felt very claustrophobic. The weight on his shoulder, though light, felt as though it was pushing him down into the floor. He made a garbled sound in the back of his throat and Steve, somehow understanding, instantly took several steps back and held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

‘Sorry,’ Clint managed to gasp out. He bent down and rested his hands on his knees, breathing as deeply and slowly as he could. He was incredibly thankful that Steve stayed back and didn’t attempt to comfort him. He could see, though, that Steve was crouched down and keeping a very close eye on him. ‘I have to leave.’ Clint knew he was taking the coward’s way out, but it was easier than seeing the pity on the Captain’s face.

Clint managed to race through the base to escape, but it was a close thing. After a while, he slowed down and belatedly realised that he had escaped straight into the mouth of hell. Natasha was sitting up in her bed staring at him. Clint hung his head to avoid Natasha’s stare.

‘You fucking moron, Barton.’ Clint glanced up to find that Natasha was standing in front of him.

‘Shit!’ Clint exclaimed, stumbling back. No matter how many times Natasha did that, it always caught him by surprise.

Natasha took hold of his elbow and steered him to sit down on the edge of her bed.

‘Breathe deep, Barton.’ Natasha curled up next to him and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Just breathe for me, Clint. Breathe,’ Natasha put some light pressure on the back of his neck to ground him. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing. Escaping Cap.’

‘Escaping, huh? Interesting.’ Natasha went back to rubbing the back of his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. ‘How come?’

‘He asked what I thought of the team and then he told me what he thought. He talked about Phil. He guessed about us.’

Natasha made a humming sound and pressed another kiss to his temple.

‘That’s no reason to run, you big coward.’ Natasha took his face between his hands and forced him to look at her. ‘What did you say about the team?’

So Clint told her his thoughts about the team (and was glad when he managed to get a huff of laughter out of Natasha when he mentioned her killing Stark),and then told her all that Steve had said.

Natasha considered his words for a bit. ‘Hmm. I agree with him. Especially about Bruce and Thor,’ Clint gave her a disbelieving look. Natasha clipped him upside the head. ‘Don’t give me that look, Barton. You know he’s right. About everything. Bruce is wary and scared, but he needs to be around people, and he needs people that he can trust. And that’s us. Thor is _not_ Loki, and he would never hurt you or any one of us. ...I agree with my original assessment of Stark, he's narcissistic and arrogant, but he's matured a lot since New York and I see no reason why he couldn’t be on the team. Steve is an excellent leader and this team doesn’t have a hope without him.

‘And as for you and me, you’re right, we don’t play well with others,’

Clint rolled his eyes at her and earned himself another clip over his head.

‘But I reckon this could be very … amusing, if not fun. I’d get to torment Stark more often, for a start.’ Natasha smirked at him and applied a gentle pressure to his neck. ‘Steve is also right about Coulson.’

Clint tried to pull away, but Natasha wasn't letting him. ‘Listen to me, Clint. I know this is hard to hear and I’m not exactly tactful. But, Phil believed in this team. He even believed in Stark. He told you that. I know he did. You know, when he called me to tell me that you’d been compromised, he made me swear that I would get you back,’

Clint closed his eyes. He had guessed as much.

‘He made me promise, Clint. I think he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do it himself.’

‘Tasha, please, don’t.’ Clint was not ashamed to admit that he was begging her.

Natasha pressed her forehead against his temple.

‘I know, I know, but it’s true. Phil always seemed to know how a mission was going to end. He knew that he wouldn't be able to save you, so he made me swear that I would. But I don't think I’ve saved you yet. You're still grieving, and you still blame yourself for what happened. And, even though you’re wrong, I understand that. There is nothing you could have done, and what happened is _not_ your fault. Phil loved you and he would want … Clint!’

Clint had broken away and raced from the room. He didn’t stop moving until he had reached the roof. Clint stood on the ledge and looked out over the city of New York. He took in the bright lights, the sounds of cars, sirens, and alarms. He took in the city and wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else.

He wanted out, but he knew that Natasha would never let him leave. Not without a damn good reason, and he didn’t have one.

For a moment, Clint looked down. Far below, he could just see the pavement and trees that lined the walkways of New York City. A vivid image of how his body would look splattered on the pavement popped into his head, and he closed his eyes and focused on that image as a breeze came along and ran across his body and through his short hair. The image in his mind shifted from the end result to the fall itself and he caught himself smiling. The fall, he knew, would be the best part. The sound and feel of the wind rushing past him and the possibility of being able to see Phil again.

Clint sucked in a deep breath and stumbled away from the ledge. He fall to the floor and curled up against the door he’d come through in the fetal position,. hiding his face against his knees and beginning to calm himself down for what had to be the third time since he’d woken. Once he’d calmed down, Clint looked back out over the city and cursed himself.

‘Fucking moron, Barton.’ Clint hugged his knees just that much tighter and thought about what Steve and Natasha had said. He knew, without a doubt, that they were right about themselves and Bruce. He, however, was not so sure about Stark. He did not doubt that Stark had matured after everything that had happened to him during and since New York but Clint did doubt his ability to be a team player and work well with the rest of them. For all his genius and technological brilliance, Stark was a lone wolf. He had never worked in any kind of team before and wasn't exactly known as a sharing kind of guy.

Thor was another matter entirely. Steve was probably right about him being kind hearted, but Clint just could not trust him, or any other Asgardian. Loki had forced him to kill his fellow agents, and Phil had died while he was busy fighting his own people and having his arse kicked by Natasha. Loki had destroyed everything he was, and despite them beating Loki and the Chitauri, Clint felt as though he had lost everything. Loki had taken out his heart and allowed him to destroy his own life. He had even lost the trust of his fellow agents.

Clint had no idea how he could possibly bounce back from what had happened. He had killed people he knew, people who trusted him, Phil had been murdered by the man he had helped get on the Helicarrier, and he had helped New York City be invaded by murderous aliens. Regardless of what Fury and Natasha had told him, he did and would continue to blame himself for everything. It had been his fault and he had to work out a way to fix it.

He could never bring Phil, back and that’s not what he was ultimately aiming for. But he needed to fix it. He needed to atone.


	2. Chapter Two

Clint groggily watched the sunrise above New York and, for the first time in a while, felt at ease with the world. He felt calm, not better, watching the sun bathe the city in natural light. The sun wasn’t always able to reach the ground of the city, but above the city, above the world, he enjoyed the sight and soft warmth that emanated from the sun. He carefully unfurled himself from his position, reached above his head to stretch his back out and groaned in satisfaction when he heard popping. He hadn't slept during the night. Instead he'd thought about how he could atone for what he had done.

And he'd finally come up with something, some time ago and had needed some time to think over the details.

He took his time making his way down to Fury’s office. He encountered other agents on the way, and though they nodded politely in greeting, he could easily see the mistrust beneath.

When he reached Fury’s office, Clint found Hill coming out of the office clutching a clipboard.

‘Hill.’

The woman looked up at him. ‘Barton, what are you doing here?’

‘I need to talk to Fury, problem with that?’ Clint knew he was being unnecessarily rude but he really didn't care.

‘Not at all.’ Hill surveyed him closely. ‘You look exhausted. Did you get any sleep last night?’

‘A bit. Is he in or not?’

Hill considered him a moment longer. ‘Yes, but he’s speaking with the Council. They’re telling him off for his decisions during New York.’

‘Decisions?’ Clint wasn't aware of any orders Fury had gone against, other than the missile thing.

‘They didn't think we could get you back and they wanted you terminated. Fury refused. He believed we could get you back, and he was willing to go against the Council for you. Seems like he made the right choice.’ Her piece said, she walked past him.

Clint turned to watch her leave, surprised, and waited to give Fury some time to finish with the Council. Normally, he would have just gone in, but considering what Hill had told him, he felt like he owed Fury this much. While he stood there, Clint thought over his plan to atone for his mistakes. It was simple but he needed time and that’s where Fury came in. He wouldn't be able to do what he needed to while he was an agent of SHIELD.

After a few minutes Clint knocked on the door and entered when permission was given, which was something else he probably wouldn’t have done before. Fury was leaning back in his chair, watching Clint closely with his eye.

‘Sir, I have a request,’ Clint said, sitting down opposite the director.

‘I’m listenin’, Barton.’

‘I need some time away from SHIELD.’

‘For?’ Fury was obviously not impressed.

This was the question that Clint had been dreading. He still didn’t know what he was going to say so his time before speaking.

‘I need some time away to … fix things. I need to fix what’s happened but to do that I need time away from SHIELD.’

‘Does that include Romanov?’ Fury settled back in his chair and Clint could swear that he caught a glimpse of amusement in the director’s eye.

‘Yeah, it does.’ Clint fidgeted in his chair. ‘I just need time to come to terms with … everything and I can’t do that when I’m stuck here with the looks. I need to step back and reset.’

‘What looks?’

Clint was beginning to get frustrated now. He had naively hoped that Fury wouldn’t question him too much.

‘Looks from other agents. They don't trust me, Fury, and I don't blame them. They hold me responsible for the attack on the Helicarrier and so do I. I need time to fix things.’

‘And how d’you plan to do that?’

‘I’d rather not say, sir.’ Clint tried not to fidget. ‘Don’t make me beg, Director.’

Fury considered his agent.

‘Barton, in all the years that you’ve been an agent, I don’t think you’ve ever actually called me “Director”. I kinda enjoy it.’ Fury paused while, Clint resisted the voice in the back of his mind that was telling him to hit the man. ‘I’m not gonna give you the time.’

‘I am not above begging, Sir.’ Clint stupidly attempted to stare him down.

‘Look, Barton, I agree that you need some time. But, I don’t think that you need to “fix” things. There is nothing for you to fix. I _will_ take you off active duty until you’re either needed or feel ready to get back to it. Good enough for ya?’

‘Off active duty? Good enough. Not staying at HQ though.’

‘Then where?’ Fury crossed his arms, unimpressed.

‘Somewhere in the city. I’m not gonna tell you, Fury. I’ll have my cell with me if you need me, but like I said, I need time on my own. I’ll still be in the city, just not here.’

‘Fine,’ Fury sighed and sat forward. ‘If you’re needed, we’ll call. Look after yourself, Barton. Call Romanov if you need something.’

Clint thanked the director and made it to the door before Fury spoke again.

 ‘Barton, I want you on the Avengers. Think about it while you’re off fixin’ things.’ 

‘Yes, sir.’

Clint made a hasty retreat and quickly picked up what he would need from his room before taking off, even managing to evade Natasha and Steve. He threw his single duffle into his car and took off, only to park several blocks from where he would be staying. The GPS in the car was incredibly easy to track, so he was better off leaving the car someplace else--he'd long ago disabled the GPS in his phone so he didn’t need to worry about that. That dealt with, Clint collected his duffle and leisurely walked to the apartment block.

On his way, Clint saw signs everywhere of the battle that had raged in the city. Although there was no Chitauri debris left over, there was ordinary, human debris, pushed into piles. Despite the designated clean-up crews, a lot of civilians had formed their own crews, and many argued that they were doing a far better job than the organised groups. Clint had to agree. In the streets where these unauthorised groups were working, not only was there less debris, but the debris that did remain was kept relatively clean and their streets were free of the extra rats that plagued some areas of the city.

He turned a corner only to be assaulted with an uninterrupted view of Stark Tower standing tall, despite the remaining damage. The tower stuck out against the skyline to Clint for all the wrong reasons. It _had_ been Ground Zero for the Chitauri attack, and was still one of the most obvious reminders. Clint could still see Loki leaning against the steps, nonchalantly asking for a drink despite the weapons pointed at him.

He did his very best to ignore the tower and kept moving with his eyes downcast, pushing his way through the crowds mingling around.

He dropped down onto a bench in Bryant Park, facing Stark Tower, to catch his breath. Seeing the destruction that he had helped Loki and the Chitauri achieve forced him to recall every _fucking_ detail of that day. He'd never seen destruction of such a degree before. All of his years in the spy business had _not_ prepared him for the things he had seen in a single day.

What the Chitauri had done that day, and what they had planned to do, still shocked Clint to his core. Even after everything he’d seen and done, he could apparently still be surprised by the levels of sheer hatred and violence that inhabited some people, or aliens as the case was.

He huffed a laugh, remembering that Phil had once said something similar to him years before.

They'd been on a mission by themselves in some forsaken Eastern European country to find some stupid information. This was before Natasha, before his relationship with Phil, though there had been plenty of flirting. The two of them had gotten into some trouble and Clint had ended up with a nasty gash to his chest, just below his collarbone. It hadn’t been deep, but Phil had been worried all the same. He had made an impromptu bandage for him that would last until long enough for them to reach the safe house.

Clint had had his right arm thrown across Phil’s shoulders and had happily allowed the older man to pull him along to safety. He hadn’t really needed the help, but who was he to refuse assistance from his sexy superior?

‘Are you trying to seduce me, sir?’ Clint had asked when Phil had pulled them down behind a low wall.

‘No, Barton.’ Phil had glanced around the wall and settled down against him. ‘There’s a patrol -- we’ll have to wait for them to pass.’ He'd checked Clint’s bandage for any leaks, his fingers lightly brushing over his collar bone.

‘I reckon you want me, sir.’

Phil hadn’t even spared him a glance, just sat back against the wall and checked his weapon again.

‘Are you ignoring me, Agent Coulson?’

‘Just your stupidity, Agent Barton. How do you feel?’

‘Fine, no dizziness or double vision.’ Clint had tried to shift to get a little more comfortable, but instead ending up leaning into the warm comfort of Phil’s shoulder. 

‘Light headed at all?’ Phil had glanced back around the wall and sighed. ‘A little bit longer. Light headed, Barton?’ Phil repeated insistently.

‘Maybe a little,’ Clint had finally admitted, closing his eyes.

Phil had looked down at him and pulled his arm from beneath Clint’s head to put it around his shoulders and pull him closer.

‘I need you to stay awake for me, agent. Can you do that or are you going to make me carry you?’

 ‘Fraid you may have to carry me, sir. Sorry ‘bout that, do my best though.’

Phil had squeezed his shoulder and, as the blackness had begun to set it, Clint could’ve sworn that Phil had muttered ‘ _I promise you’ll be safe’_ into his hair.

When Clint had finally come to, Phil had just lain him down on a make shift bed.

‘Figures,’ Phil had muttered, noticing he was awake. ‘You wake up after all the hard work.’

'This isn’t the safe house.’ The room that Clint had found himself in was just that: a single room. There had been the bed, a pathetic looking lounge, and a kitchen area, which had seemed to only be stocked with utensils, not food.

‘It’s not. It’s a secondary safe house that I set up a few years ago. There’s no heating or electricity though.’

‘‘S fine, s’long as there’s a roof and blankets.’

Clint had forced himself to sit up and had immediately lay back down when the room had begun spinning at him. Clint had scrunched his eyes closed and breathed through his nose.

After a while, he had felt a blanket carefully draped over him and a soft hand press against his forehead.

‘I think you might be getting a fever, agent.’ Clint had groaned as Phil peeled the make shift bandage away from his skin and inspected the wound. ‘I need to get some water from a stream about two minutes from here. Will you be all right until then?’

‘Stupid question, sir. I can last five minutes without your useless hovering.’

Phil had replaced the bandage and smoothed the blankets down over him. Clint had instantly missed the feel of Phil’s soft, careful hands. He had heard Phil move around the room followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. Clint had been left with nothing but the sound of silence. He had carefully re-opened his eyes and stared up at the wooden ceiling, and wondered why Phil had felt the need to set up a safe house in the middle of Eastern Europe without heating or electricity.

The minutes stretched on and Clint had found himself thinking the worst. Just as he’d begun to panic, though, the door had opened again and Phil had walked through carrying two buckets of water.

‘How do you feel now?’ Phil had set the water down and searched the kitchen cupboards for what he needed.

‘The same. ‘Bout time you got back.’

‘It’s only been five minutes. You did say you could last that long.’ Phil had helped Clint into a sitting position against the wall and settled himself onto the bed. Together they’d removed Clint’s shirt so that Phil would be able to get to the wound properly. ‘Good news is that you’ve stopped bleeding.’

‘Wonderful. Are you going to put me back together now? Any stitches?’

‘No. It’ll still scar though.’

Clint had shrugged and closed his eyes, allowing Phil to work in peace. Clint had been taken aback when Phil had gently cleaned the wound and the surrounding area. He’d decided to concentrate on the sound of Phil’s soft breathing, and changed his own breathing to match, finding that it almost instantly calmed him down.

‘Sir, are you controlling your breathing?’

‘Yes. It’s either this or I’ll start to panic. Are you matching my breathing?’

‘Maybe. Your breathing exercise is better than mine. Why would you panic?’

‘Because you worried me, agent. I thought the insurgent had stabbed you, and then you passed out on me. I had to carry you through the beginnings of a war zone. This will sting.’

Phil had warned, as he’d carefully spread hydrogen peroxide onto the wound to sterilise it.

Despite his gentleness, Clint had still flinched from the sensation and bitten down on his lip until he drew blood.

When the stinging passed, he breathed out slowly.

‘Didn't mean to pass out on ya, sir. I swear.’

‘I don't believe you,’ Phil had teased.

Clint had smirked at that and cracked an eye open. He'd seen the worry in Phil’s eyes as he'd ripped open a bandage and turned back to him, pressing the bandage to his skin. 

‘How’s that?’

‘Fine. Feelin’ much better, thanks.’ Clint let his eyes slide close and listened to Phil move away to clean his hands.

After ensuring that they were safely locked in, Phil had sat back down next to Clint and pressed the back of his hand against Clint’s forehead.

‘You’re temperature’s fine. You should stay sitting up for a little longer, though. You hungry?’

Clint hummed in acknowledgement. The pressure beside him disappeared briefly as Phil went to get something to eat, and relaxed a little when he sat back down.

‘It's not much, but it’s better than nothing.’

Clint had taken the peanut butter sandwich off him and eaten it without complaint.

 ‘Sorry I worried you, sir. I really didn’t mean to. Kinda surprised you were.’ He'd done his very best not to look at Phil when he spoke

Phil shifted on the bed slightly.

‘Of course I was worried, Clint. I don't particularly want you to get hurt.’ Clint could still remember the slight flutter in Phil’s voice even as he’d hastily added, ‘Too much paperwork.’

‘Whatever you say, sir.’ Clint remembered smirking when Phil looked up. ‘Didn't think the guy would actually get me.’

‘Well, you were wrong, Barton. You’re lucky he didn’t manage to stab you.’

Phil had been very carefully avoiding eye contact, instead focusing entirely on his own sandwich.

‘Piece of glass wasn’t sharp enough to stab, just slash like a bitch. Hang on, did you say the _beginnings of a war zone_? I thought it was _already_ a war zone?’

Clint and Phil had _been_ in the zone to get information that had been meant to put a stop to the turmoil in the region. 

‘Not to this extent. After you so helpfully passed out on me, the two opposing factions began a new violence. After all these years, people still have the ability to surprise me.’ Phil smirked wryly at him.

‘What d’you mean?’

‘After everything, I’ve seen and done, the levels of violence and hatred in some people is astounding.’

Phil had smiled properly at him then, and Clint had realised in that moment that he was completely screwed. He had fallen for the superior agent, his handler, and hefelt like some horrible cliché.

Despite that, they had still ended up together not long after.

\--

As Clint came back to himself, he stared up at the damaged tower and wondered what the debris was like in the shadow of the tower. As he wondered, a woman in overalls with bright blue hair bounced over to him. The glint of her unnaturally white teeth nearly blinded him.

‘Hiya! I’m Candy. I couldn't help noticing you here and wondered if you’d like to help out with the clean up?’ Candy grinned widely at him.

‘Actually, yeah, I really would.’


	3. Chapter Three

He was making his way through the hallways again with Natasha and Phil.

The package hadn’t been in the safe, again, and when they raced through the last door, Natasha and Phil automatically raced in different directions. Clint watched Phil disappear into the blackness between two buildings, once again, and began to race after him. He had to reach him, he had to save him. If he got to him in time then maybe he would be able to save him from the explosion, the spear through the chest, this time.

Clint ran and ran but, once again, he heard and felt the explosion before he could get there. He didn't even hesitate, just kept running and running. Straight past the burning SUV to the prone figure. Phil’s dead eyes looked up at him, _‘Your fault’_ , and once again he snapped awake in a cold sweat, breathing hard.

Clint lay alone in the semi-darkness, _again_ , and controlled his breathing, _again_. He had been having the same dream every night for the past two weeks since he had first had it. He pushed himself out of bed and stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the lounge. The room, and the entire apartment, was filled with plush furniture and was obviously well lived in--though in two weeks, Clint had managed to make it filthy. There were dirty clothes lying over every surface, including a sock hanging over the television. He hadn’t cleaned anything the whole time he’d been here. The only thing he’d really done was turn all of the photos face down so that he wouldn’t have to see the happy snaps of him and Phil.

Phil had bought this apartment several years after he had first joined SHIELD so that he would have somewhere he could go to escape the organisation but still be within the city. Clint had officially moved into the apartment almost eleven years ago.

Clint lay on the lounge until the alarm on his phone blared at him to get up. The alarm had been set to go off an hour before he really needed to be up, but he'd done that so that he would have a chance to wander through the streets of New York to see the progress, or lack thereof, in the clean-up efforts.

For the past two weeks, he’d been working with Candy and eight other people as part of a civilian clean-up crew and, so far, he was enjoying it. The work was hard so there wasn't any time to think. Clint found it incredibly easy to zone out and just do the work that he was required of him. It was easy and it felt good to be helping fix what he’d helped to create in the first place.

Clint walked through the city which even at this hour was bursting with life. This is what Clint loved about the city. There was always something happening somewhere. Even better, the people walking past him didn't look twice. Their eyes slid straight over him. They weren’t interested in him at all; no one cared who he was or what he’d done with his life.

In this city, he could be anonymous, he could be anyone. The people weren’t ignorant, most of the time, but Clint found that the anonymity of the city was invigorating.

Every day, Clint purposely passed beneath the shadow of Stark Tower and looked up at the progress that Stark was making in rebuilding his tower. He’d caught sight of Stark a couple of times. He’d never tried to speak to the man and didn't intend to either. Instead, he kept pushing through the crowd to meet up with Candy and the rest of his clean-up crew.

When he arrived outside the entrance to Bryant Park, Candy and the others hadn’t arrived yet, and he sat down on his usual bench to wait. While he did, Clint liked to tip his head back and stare up at the lightening sky above Stark Tower, to the spot where the wormhole thingy had been. Every morning, he watched the sun rise over the city and every morning he felt the same thing. Guilt and shame.

‘Clint!’ Candy bounded over to him, bright and happy as always, and flopped onto the bench beside him. ‘How do you always manage to beat me here, Clinty?’ Candy had an odd habit of ending people’s name in a ‘y’.

In the time he’d known her, Candy had proven herself to be an incredibly happy woman who, despite some of the things she’d suffered, never let people’s opinion of her affect the way she dressed or acted. Clint respected her for that.

‘Like to get up early.’ Clint shrugged. ‘What are we doin’ today?’

Candy shifted through her paperwork and showed him a map of “their” area.

‘We have to clean-up this area,’ She indicted a spot on the map that the spot was directly around Stark Tower. ‘Stark Tower has a fair bit of rubbish around, though Tony Stark’s done a lot to clean it all up. He’s been really good with all this.’

Clint had long ago learnt that Candy was a big fan of not only Stark but the rest of the Avengers. Thankfully, though, she didn’t talk about it much. And hadn’t realised who he was.

‘Looks good, Candy.’ Clint smiled warmly at the woman that he had, surprisingly, come to think of as a friend. Candy treated him to one of her wide smiles and they fell into a companionable silence. He’d discovered that merely being in the girl’s presence was enough to keep him content and, occasionally, even happy.

However, as the rest of the group began to arrive in dribs and drabs, Clint’s mood started to go down. Although he did enjoy the work very much, two of the other members of their little group had taken an interest in him. Both of them had made obvious passes at him and despite Clint telling them, very nicely, that he wasn’t fucking interested they had persisted. Thankfully, Candy was ensuring that he wasn't partnered with either of them when she could. Clint loved her for it.

Candy split them into teams of two and, when she paired Clint with the woman who’d been flirting with him, she sent him a sympathetic look. Clint winked at her and then nodded at his partner for the day. Although the crew stayed in the same area, each pair had to stay together. Just in case. Clint’s apprehension grew as the ten-man crew made their way to Stark Tower and the area that they would be cleaning up.

Clint knew that the chances of running into Stark while there were fairly high because, in the last few days, Clint had noticed that Stark had spent a fair bit of time inspecting the ground around his tower, no doubt checking for any structural damage at ground level. He could only hope that Stark had better things to do that day.

He and the girl, Stacy, moved into their designated section of the overall area and began their clean-up. As the hours ticked by, He easily lost himself to the work and brushed off her attempts at conversation. Stacy was a lovely girl, with long brown hair and beautiful deep hazel eyes, but every time he’d considered flirting back an image of Phil’s smiling face would float into view and he’d feel guilty. He knew that Phil was gone and so he was free to flirt with anyone he liked. But it felt wrong. Flirting with someone felt like cheating and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Halfway through the day they took an hour for lunch. Clint usually joined the rest of them, but today he just wasn’t feeling the need to be around conversation. Instead, he slunk away to eat alone, and because he did this so often the other members of the group didn’t question it when he disappeared. He did, however, stay close enough to keep an eye on them, and today it turned out to be a bad idea. Stark turned up.

Clint couldn’t believe it; for two glorious weeks he had managed to avoid contact with anyone from SHIELD and the Avengers, even Tasha. Stark came along accompanied by Happy Hogan.

He walked up to the group, and Clint could see that Candy was barely managing to contain her excitement. Clint had to give the girl props for that. Stark was clearly complimenting them, in his own way, on their work and questioning them on how they went about it. Candy was explaining how the ten of them worked and Stark picked up on that.

‘Ten? I count nine,’ Stark said.

‘Oh, yeah, Clint said that he had something he needed to do during lunch.’

Clint groaned at the mention of his name.

‘Clint, huh? Clint who?’ Clint could almost hear the grin and decided to look up. Stark was grinning and looking around the area.

‘Ah, Barton? Clint Barton,’ Candy was warily eying Stark. ‘Why? Do you know him?’

‘Nope,’ Stark lied. Candy and the others definitely didn’t believe him. ‘So, how do you lot pay for this?’ As Candy explained how she collected donations, Stark finally found Clint and quirked an eyebrow in greeting. Clint rolled his eyes and raised a single hand.

‘Well, lovely to meet you lot,’ Stark pulled out his check book and passed a cheque to Candy. ‘Keep cleaning up the streets of New York or whatever.’ Stark inclined his head towards Clint and he and Happy then took their leave.

Clint sighed and leant back against the wall. He’d been shocked Stark hadn’t made a scene but he was unbelievably grateful. He doubled back around so that he was walking towards the group rather than from behind.

Candy bounded over to him and waved the cheque in his face, and he lightly took hold of her wrist to stop her.

‘Clint! Tony Stark gave me this! He gave us money for the clean-up! Can you believe it? Oh, my God! I met Tony Stark.’

Clint became worried that the girl was going to faint on him.

‘Jesus, Candy, calm down,’ Clint got her to sit down and took the cheque off her. Stark had made it out for a thousand dollars, which was not surprising. ‘You ain’t gonna run off with this, are ya?’

‘No.’ Candy grinned up at him. ‘Stark’s a lot better looking in person.’

‘Good to know,’ Clint handed the cheque back. ‘Careful you don’t lose this, Candy.’

Clint glanced at the other members of the crew but didn’t notice anything that would give him cause to worry.

‘Do you know him? Tony Stark, I mean.’ Candy tucked the cheque carefully into her wallet.

‘What, no. How the hell would I know Tony Stark?’

‘I dunno. He asked what your last name was.’

Clint mentally cursed Stark. ‘Maybe he knows another Clint. Come on, lunch is over.’

Six hours later and they were finally done. As they said their goodbyes and exchanged promises to see each other tomorrow, Clint made the split second decision to shadow Candy on her way home. He stayed a few yards behind her and after a few blocks, when he turned a corner, he realised that he’d lost her.

He quickly moved faster and turned into an alleyway on his left. Candy was backed up between two dumpsters. Surprisingly, the man hemming her in was not someone from their clean-up crew, but an ordinary mugger. Clint didn't even need to think. He calmly walked up behind the man and seized him in a chokehold. The man fought back for all of ten seconds before passing out. Clint let him fall to the ground and moved to Candy, who was staring at him.

‘Candy, you all right?’ Clint gripped her forearms, gently guided her to sit down against the wall and crouched down in front of her. ‘Breathe with me, sweetheart. In and out, in and out. Focus on me.’ Candy kept her eyes on him and altered her breathing to match his. Clint smiled gently at her. ‘That’s it, Candy, nice and slow, with me.’

‘Thank you, Clint.’ Candy’s eyes flicked towards the prone figure on the ground.

‘Hey, hey, eyes on me, sweetheart. Breathe.’ Clint pulled out his cell phone and dialled 911. Candy nodded at him and continued to match his breathing. ‘That’s it. Yeah, hi, I need the police.’

As Clint spoke to the woman on the other end of the line, he heard someone walk down the alleyway, and he almost dropped the phone when he looked up and saw Bruce walking towards him. Bruce nodded in greeting and knelt beside him.

‘Hi, what’s your name?’ Bruce kept his voice low and nodded at Clint to go and check on the man. Clint ended the call with the emergency services and went over to the man, who was starting to come around. He hauled the man into a sitting position against the wall.

‘I would suggest that you stay right there. Understood?’

The man nodded at him, still mostly out of it.

Clint could still hear Bruce talking softly to Candy.

‘That’s it. You’re doing really well, Candy.’

‘How is she?’ Clint stood up and walked towards the entrance of the alleyway to await the police.

‘She’s all right, aren’t you?’ Candy managed a weak smile. Bruce smiled back at her. ‘Do you want to stand up, or you okay here?’

‘I’m okay here, thanks.’ Candy’s voice was still shaking. ‘Please, don't leave me.’

‘We aren’t going anywhere, Candy. I promise,’ Bruce assured her easily. ‘Clint and I are going to stay with you for as long as we can.’

‘Absolutely,’ Clint supplied, smiling at her, and turned his attention back to the street when he heard sirens.

Two police cars pulled up and the officers jumped out.

‘You the one who called in a mugging?’ one of them asked. Clint nodded and showed them into the alleyway where three of them arrested the man and the other went to check on Candy.

Clint and Bruce stepped back to allow the officers to do their job, but they made sure that they stayed where Candy would be able to see them. An officer made his way over to them and began questioning them about what happened. When all was said and done, Clint checked on Candy again.

‘You sure you don’t want an ambulance?’

Candy had refused any medical assistance.

‘I’m not hurt. Just scared.’ Candy gave another weak smile. ‘I’m okay, really.’

‘Okay, well, we’re gonna walk you the rest of the home. Come on.’ Clint slung a friendly arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the alley with Bruce falling into step on her other side, his head down and his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Candy walked in silence, still in shock, the entire way back to her apartment and only showed signs of life when pointing out the direction. When they reached her block of flats, Bruce fished around in her bag, after getting her permission, and unlocked her front door. Clint placed her on the lounge as Bruce fetched her a glass of water. The bathroom door opened and a woman with a towel wrapped her body walked out and froze when she spotted two strange men in her living room. Bruce held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture and Clint pointed at Candy.

‘Sasha!’ Candy jumped off the lounge and flung herself into the other girl’s arms.

‘Candy? What the hell is going on?’ The girl, Sasha, gently forced Candy to let go.                                     

‘I was mugged,’ Candy sniffed and pressed herself back against Sasha. ‘Clint saved me, and then Bruce helped calm me down.’ Candy started sobbing and Bruce helped Sasha get Candy seated again.

‘Candy, babe, I’m kinda naked here.’ Sasha smoothed a hand over Candy’s hair. Candy sniffed again and let go, instantly leaning against Clint’s arm instead. Sasha lightly pressed a kiss to Candy’s cheek and disappeared to put clothes on.

‘So, you have a girlfriend, then?’ Clint asked, grinning down at the girl. Candy smiled back at him.

‘Yeah, for five years now,’ Candy shifted against him and Clint, taking the hint, wrapped an arm around her. ‘How d’you guys know each other?’ Candy glanced up at Bruce.

‘Clint and I have worked together before.’ Bruce answered, passing her the water.

Candy took a small sip and smiled up at her returned girlfriend.

‘Now, what d’you mean you were mugged?’

Clint and Bruce sat by silently while Candy explained. As she spoke, Clint noticed that Candy had calmed down a lot since they had gotten back, no doubt because of the presence of her girlfriend. He was strongly reminded how calming he had found Phil’s presence after a bad day or a nasty nightmare.

‘And these two looked after you?’ Sasha’s voice brought Clint back, he and Bruce smiled at her.

‘Yep,’ Candy sighed and went to settle against her girlfriend when she unexpectedly jumped forward and rooted through her bag, ripping out her wallet and then the cheque. ‘Look! I met Tony Stark!’ Candy waved the cheque in Sasha’s face, and Sasha sighed and grabbed hold of it so that she could actually see the damn thing.

Clint glanced at Bruce, who rolled his eyes at him.

‘Thousand bucks, huh? Not bad.’ Sasha handed the cheque back and then turned her attention to the men. ‘Do you guys wanna stay for dinner or something?’

‘No, thank you,’ Bruce replied. ‘I have to get going. We just wanted to make sure she’d be okay. It was lovely to meet you both and, Candy, make sure you get some rest, okay?’

Candy hugged both of them in thanks and promised that she would get some rest and that she would see Clint tomorrow.

‘Yeah, alright, take care of yourself, Candy.’ Clint pulled the girl into a hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Once he and Bruce were back on the street, Clint turned to him. ‘I just needed some time away from SHIELD and everything. I’ve been helping out with cleaning up some of the wreckage from around the city and today we were at Stark Tower. I’m off active duty and, no, I don’t know when I’ll be going back, but Fury knows how to get in contact with me if needed. Okay, so, nice seeing you, don't tell Tasha, see you round.’

Clint started walking away and was a little annoyed when Bruce fell into step with him.

‘I understand wanting some time alone …’

‘Then why are you following me?’

‘… and I can’t blame you for that.’ Bruce only smiled at Clint’s interruption. ‘But there’s something that you need to understand. More than most, I know what it's like to feel guilty and ashamed for something which you know you can’t have controlled.’ Bruce gave him an exhausted smile. ‘Since this began, I have felt unable to control myself, and I've certainly never felt any measure of control when it came to the other guy. I've spent _years_ trying to find a way to reverse this and the one time I ever came close to that, I had to then reverse the reversal so that I could save someone that I deeply cared for. I ended up breaking Harlem.’ Bruce gave an empty huff of laughter.

‘I truly believed that I'd have to spend the rest of my life on the run. And I didn’t have any issues with that. I knew that was the _only_ option for me. There was no way that I would ever be able to live in civilised society. It’s why I was kind of annoyed when Natasha found me and asked me to come in. I was angry with SHIELD and I did consider running but, in the end, Natasha managed to convince me. Either way, I came in when SHIELD asked and I don’t regret it. I'd believed that it would only end in disaster; that I would end up hurting either a civilian or someone from SHIELD.

‘But I came in to help all the same. Would you like to know why?’ Bruce glanced at Clint, who nodded. ‘I came in because Natasha asked nicely.’ Bruce laughed properly this time. ‘And I will deny that. Although she didn't come alone, Natasha still spoke to me by herself, and I respected that, especially when I realised just how much the other guy scared her, which she will no doubt deny. But, ultimately, SHIELD needed my help and I was willing to do that because I wasn't forced to, and I wasn't dragged in. I’ve spent most of my life on my own, without friends or colleagues, but now, I do.

‘Tony understood what I was talking about, and I haven’t experienced that kind of thing for a very, very long time. None of you cared about the other guy. That wasn't why I was asked in. I was asked in purely because SHIELD knew I would be able to find the Tesseract when no one else could. Which, again, I hadn’t experienced for way too long.’ Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Clint, my point is that I get it. I get why you need some time alone and I can't, in good faith, hold that against you. But, you should know that we're all worried about you. We're happy to give you your space, so long as you know that you can speak with us, including me, when you need to. And I think you need to see this.’

The two men turned a corner and came face to face with a memorial for the victims of the attack on New York. Clint’s breath hitched and his eyes unfocused for a moment as he saw Phil’s lifeless eyes from his dream again.

Bruce lightly placed his hand on Clint’s shoulder and gently guided him towards the memorial. Bouquets of flowers, cards, photos of victims and candles cluttered the area and there were people standing around, either in silence or speaking in low voices. Clint hardly noticed that Bruce was guiding him towards the very middle of the memorial.

When Clint saw what was there, his heart skipped a beat. This area of the memorial was dedicated to the Avengers. There were flowers, images from the paper, children’s drawings, notes and cards, all of them thanking the Avengers. Every word, every image, every drawing, was a thank you. There was a child’s Iron Man mask, children’s versions of Captain America’s shield and Thor’s hammer, a plush toy of the Hulk, a couple of spider toys, and even a few toy bows and arrows.

‘You see? People are thanking us. I nearly passed out when Tony pointed this out to me as well. I couldn't believe that people would want to thank a monster, and although Tony, Steve, and Thor are the favourites, for obvious reasons, you, me, and Natasha are all represented here and we're being thanked as well. We saved New York, Clint. We saved the world from an alien invasion.’ Bruce smiled brightly at him. ‘The Hulk helped save New York, for God’s sake. Just a few months after destroying Harlem, I helped save the rest of the city. For me at least, that is unbelievable. I think that’s the same for you and Natasha. She didn't admit it, but I think she was feeling much the same as you are now and I was then. Fury, Natasha, and Steve all said that you weren’t sold on the Avengers. Neither was I, at first. But now, I think it is a good idea.

‘The other guy won’t always be so helpful and I won’t always let him out, but I’ll still be able to assist. Plus, Tony’s promised me my own lab in Stark Tower. Clint, I understand that you’re grieving and that you’re blaming yourself, which I don't blame you for, but you need to know that the only one blaming you _is_ you. No one else, at SHIELD or the public, blame you. So, take your time and come back when you’re ready. We are here for you, Clint. Try not to get yourself into too much trouble.’ Bruce smiled at him once more and disappeared into the crowd.

Clint stood there staring down at the area of the memorial thanking the Avengers, in particular one of the bow and arrow sets. The child’s toy would be utterly useless for anything, but all the same Clint found himself affected by the toy, and the entire memorial. As Clint slowly started walking home, the image of that bow and arrow, leaning against the mini shield, stuck with him, and that night he somehow managed to avoid the terrible dream of losing Phil to an explosion (stab wound) again.


	4. Chapter Four

Clint ducked behind a tree to avoid the laser blast from the Doombot--and to catch his breath. Fury had called him earlier that say telling him he was needed in Central Park because of Doom’s robots. The Fantastic Four, he was sourly informed, were off exploring some deep cavern in some South American country and were not available to assist in this particular altercation with the man--robot--thingy that was generally their territory. Clint had briefly considered saying no to the director, but ultimately decided that he had wanted to prove to himself, and the others, that he was okay enough to fight evil robots. And so he'd come in.

He was now beginning to regret that decision, as things weren’t going well. Cap had initially wanted him up high, which was fine by him, and he had climbed the highest tree in the vicinity to pick off the bots. However, the stupid things had soon worked out where the arrows were coming from and had blown up the tree. Clint had managed to jump clear just in time and was then forced to shoot at the bots from the ground.

Clint was an excellent fighter and had no problems with this change of plan but it was annoying all the same. And now, he was hiding behind a tree. In his ear, Iron Man was calling out patterns and was mostly taking out any strays that he spotted. Bruce was far from the action in a SHIELD van watching them through CCTV cameras as well as the cameras that they had installed in their suits. The lucky bastard.

‘Hawkeye, you still with us?’ Natasha’s voice broke through Clint’s annoyance.

‘Yeah, yeah, still here. Just a breather.’ Clint had no problems with admitting that he needed a moment and none of his team mates held it against him.

They had now been fighting the bots for three very long, highly irritating hours. They just weren’t staying down, which is why Bruce was away in a van instead of having the Hulk helping them out. Every so often, Bruce would spout some science crap and Tony would comment as he had his own scans running.

Clint notched a trick arrow and popped up from behind the tree, firing on the first bot he saw. Clint hadn’t really noticed which arrow he’d grabbed, but he was pleased when the arrow made contact with the bot and covered it in thick foam which forced it to the ground and kept it there.

‘Hawkeye, what was that?’ Cap asked.

‘Foam arrow, turns hard on contact,’ Clint knelt down and rapped on the foam to demonstrate. ‘Don’t know how long it’ll last, though.’

‘Doesn’t matter. It’s done more than we have.’ Iron Man shot down another bot. ‘What’s in it?’ As Clint explained what the foam consisted, he kept firing the same arrows until he ran out.

‘I’ve run out of the foam. Got a couple of other trick arrows though. Might do something.’

‘Use them.’ Cap ordered. Clint rolled his eyes. Of course he was going to use them. Stupid command.

Clint mentally sorted through his trick arrows and pulled one out that would explode on impact. So far, Iron Man’s repulsors and Thor’s lightning hadn’t worked, but these arrows were just below nuclear grade, which was a secret. Clint aimed and fired the arrow into a group of the damned things and was immensely satisfied when all of them blew up completely.

‘And those arrows?’ Cap asked.

‘Sorry, Brucie, SHIELD can’t hear this one.’

‘Not a problem.’ Clint could hear the smile in Bruce’s voice and flicked the comm link so that only the other Avengers would be able to hear him.

‘The arrows have a little, teeny tiny bit of Pu-239 in them. Just a little though.’ Clint knew that the only people who’d understand that would be Natasha and Stark.

‘You’ve got plutonium arrows? I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.’ Stark’s voice _clearly_ indicated that he was impressed.

‘Wait, plutonium? Isn’t that nuclear?’ Cap, on the other hand, was obviously going for worried.

‘‘Fraid so, Cap. You gonna report me?’ Clint asked, firing another of the arrows.

‘Only if it’s dangerous to people,’ Cap said slowly, unsure.

‘Nope, it’s only a tiny amount. Not enough to bring down a building, but enough to blow up a Doombot, or a person,’ Clint added, just to annoy.

‘Fire at any of us and I’ll kill you,’ Natasha interjected.

‘You got it.’ Clint grinned. This is what he lived for. The fight, the chase, the rush of adrenaline. And now, that they had a better idea of what was needed, the fight didn’t last much longer.

Clint zoned out for the last few minutes of the fight, barely listening to the voices in his ear, until he had taken out the last one and made his way back to where SHIELD had set up base.

‘Wait, where’s Natasha?’

Natasha was noticeably missing from the group. Clint assumed, hoped, that she was just avoiding Stark.

‘She’s in there with Cap,’ Stark jerked his thumb towards the van behind him. ‘She got injured, so …’ Clint didn't hear anything else as he raced into the van. Clint barely registered Steve’s presence as Natasha was lying back on a bed being attended to by medical staff for a gash on the left side of her chest. In the exact same spot where Phil had been stabbed.

‘Clint …’ Natasha said.

She was clearly okay and Clint could see that the gash wasn’t deep and wouldn't cause her any major problems. And yet, it was the same spot. He couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in. All he could see were Phil’s lifeless eyes staring up at him, _“Your fault”_ , and he bolted. Straight past the rest of his team and SHIELD, and out into Central Park proper.

He didn’t stop until he legs had turned to jelly and his body gave out on him. Clint collapsed against a tree, hugging his knees to his chest, and tried to control his breathing. He was alone for a good few minutes before his ears picked up on the sound of heavy, though muffled, footsteps. Clint tensed for a fight and glanced up from his laser-like focus on his lap to see Thor cautiously walking towards him. Clint dropped his head back down and allowed Thor to settle down beside him.

‘The others are searching for you as well, my friend. Shall I tell them I have found you?’

Clint was a little stunned to hear Thor call him “friend,” but nodded his assent.

‘Very well. Friends? I have located Hawkeye. I believe he is well and we shall return to you in good time,’ Thor then removed his ear piece. ‘I am not sure that I like this technology. It can be a little … distracting, hearing all of your voices directly in my ear when I am trying to fight. It is also very comforting though, to know that you are there and well. Are you well, Clint?’

Clint sighed and lifted his head.

‘Not really. Natasha’s injury is in the same spot as where Phi … Coulson was stabbed.’

‘I see.’ Thor fell silent for a moment, thinking. ‘I now understand why you ran.’

‘I didn’t run away,’ Clint argued. ‘I made a tactful retreat is all.’

Thor’s laughter boomed out of him and Clint couldn't help laughing along, though he managed to catch himself before his own laughter became hysterical.

Thor clapped him on the back.

‘Fair enough. It is nothing to be ashamed of. A tactful retreat is sometimes for the best.’ Thor leaned back against the, thankfully, thick trunk of the tree. ‘I have been meaning to speak with you, my friend. About what happened,’ Thor glanced at Clint to ensure that he was ready for this conversation. Clint wasn't totally sure about how much he wanted to have this particular talk but he nodded all the same, figuring that the sooner it was done the better off he’d be.

‘Good. I am sorry for what my brother did to you, the Son of Coul, SHIELD, and all of the great city of New York. I take some of the blame for his actions. I feel as though if I had been a better brother to him or shown him more affection then he may not have felt the need to align himself with the Chitauri and attack this wonderful city. I cannot excuse his actions, nor do I intend to, but if I can do something to atone for Loki’s actions then I shall happily do so.’

Clint watched Thor whilst he spoke and he could see the pain and anguish in his eyes when he spoke of his brother and what he had done.

‘Thor, what Loki did isn’t your fault.’

‘If that is what you believe then why are you blaming yourself?’ Thor spoke so simply that it shocked Clint. ‘Loki used a sceptre gifted to him by an unknown person, which he used to brainwash you and Selvig. You cannot be held responsible for something done whilst under the affects of magic, correct?’ When Clint didn’t answer, Thor smiled gently at him. ‘Would you hold someone responsible for an act if they had been brainwashed into it?’ Clint took a moment before shaking his head. ‘Exactly. Then why hold yourself responsible, I wonder? I am sorry for what happened to the Son of Coul. He was a good man, and I was privileged to consider him both an ally and a friend. How long had you and the agent known each other?’

‘Seventeen years. I joined SHIELD when I was twenty-three. I wouldn't stick with any of my other handlers and Coulson got stuck with me.’ Clint smiled at the memory. As soon as Phil had met him for the first time, he’d declared that Clint was an arrogant idiot who’d need constant handling.

‘A long time for you then,’ Thor stared out over the park. ‘Your world amazes me. Asgardians can live for an age and seventeen years is the blink of an eye to us. But I know that for you, for humanity, seventeen years is an age, and to know someone for so long is an incredible thing.’

‘It is a long time for me, Thor. See, I grew up in the circus, so relationships, of any kind, came and went. When I joined SHIELD I kinda expected the same thing, you know. For people to always be coming and going. But for all their faults, SHIELD does try to take care of their agents and they definitely took care of Coulson. He was the best agent they had by far, and the bravest.’

‘The Son of Coul struck me for the same reason. Before I came here, I must admit that I had a very low opinion of humanity.’ Thor gave him an apologetic look. ‘But since then, I have learnt that humanity can be just as brave as any Asgardian, and the Son of Coul proved that. To go up against an Asgardian, especially Loki, is either very brave or very stupid. But I think, in his case, it was bravery that caused him to confront Loki. I know of some Asgardians who would think twice about that, even before all of this. You may not believe me, but Loki was once a good man.’

‘How can you still think of him as a brother? He wanted to destroy this world because you love us,’ Clint blurted.

‘Despite all he had done, I know that deep down Loki is still the person I once knew. I believe that he may have also been under the influence of sorcery when he initiated the attack, though I cannot prove it. Loki is my brother and I will always love him. I am disappointed in him and I wish that I knew how to save him. I am sorry that it was my love of your Earth that caused this. I would understand if you were to despise me.’

Thor looked a little like a kicked puppy and Clint found himself softening towards the man.

‘I don’t.’ Clint shrugged and finally stretched his legs out. ‘What he did isn’t your fault, Thor. I still can’t stop blaming myself though, and I need more time away.’

‘I understand. I will inform the others that you are well and that you need time to yourself. I am certain that they will understand.’ The two men stood and Thor shocked Clint when he briefly embraced him. ‘If you wish to speak to me again, please don't hesitate. You are a good man, Clint Barton. I hope that you do cease blaming yourself for what occurred and that you discover the strength you need to move on.’

Thor clapped him on the shoulder, almost knocking him down, and walked away.

Clint sighed and began the long hike home.

~~~

The package hadn’t been there and they were making a hasty retreat. When they got outside, Natasha and Phil took off in their usual different directions and, after a moment, Clint followed after Phil, closer than he had in any of the other dreams. Clint was still just a little too far to stop him from climbing into his SUV and as Phil started the engine, Clint kept moving forward but stopped when he heard a _click_. Clint looked down at the ground beneath the spot where he’d just stepped. What he saw made his heart sink.

It was a trigger.

Clint looked up, almost resigned, at the SUV and watched, unblinking, as it exploded. He watched a body being thrown from the vehicle, remarkably not on fire, and land several yards away. Clint staggered over and saw Phil lying there with a single stab wound to his chest. Clint collapsed to his knees beside him and cradled Phil’s head in his hands. Phil was still alive.

‘Your … fault … Clint … ’

‘I know, Phil, I know. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, so sorry.’ Clint doubled over at his waist to press their foreheads together.

This time Phil died in his arms.

~~~

Clint jerked awake, in a cold sweat, breathing heavy, and lurched into bathroom to throw up. When he was done, he sat back against the cool tiled walls and closed his eyes, only to be assaulted by the image of the SUV blowing up again. He stumbled to his feet and washed out his mouth. He then _crawled_ back into the bedroom, grabbed his phone, and managed to stumble upright into the living room where he promptly sunk onto the lounge. He stared at the screen of his phone for some time before eventually dialling Natasha’s number.

‘This had better be good, Barton.’ Natasha’s groggy voice made him wince. He should have known she’d been asleep.

‘Sorry, Tasha, I just needed to talk.’ Clint switched the phone to speaker and rested it on his chest.

‘What’s up?’ Natasha sounded far more alert now.

‘I keep having the same dream. You remember that mission we had when you took ages to crack the safe? In that lab?’

‘I remember.’

Of course she would. Another stupid question.

‘Well, it’s that, except the package wasn’t there, so we left and split up outside to get back to HQ. I’m racing to my car when I hear this massive explosion. When I get there, I find Phil lying a few yards away with a stab wound to the chest, where Loki got him. He’s always … gone when I get to him, but he always tells me that it’s my fault. But tonight, I followed after him. I saw him get into his SUV and then I stepped on a trigger and had to watch the fucking thing blow. He died while I held him this time.’ There was silence on the other end of the line.

‘Clint, I need you to breathe for me.’

‘Jesus, Nat, I am breathing.’

‘Not properly. Now, breathe, Barton. Do not make me come over there.’

‘Over where?’ Clint shot back even as he started to control his breathing.

‘The apartment, idiot. I’ve been there, remember. You guys had me over for every single holiday. I’ve known where you were this whole time, Barton. You have no secrets from me.’

‘Fuckin’ hell. I knew that.’ Clint had forgotten that.

‘It wasn’t your fault, Clint. Phil Coulson was killed by Loki …’

‘While you were fighting my brainwashed butt.’

‘… while I was trying to fulfil a promise to an old friend,’ Natasha corrected. ‘Phil confronted Loki, which he would’ve done regardless of your condition. Clint, you moron, Phil made his own choices and it was his decision alone to face Loki with nothing but a gun which he wasn’t even sure about. Phil knew what he was doing. He trusted you to the last, Clint.’

‘But, Nat, if Loki hadn’t gotten to me then maybe he’d still be alive.’

‘And maybe I’d be dead instead. Or maybe Fury, or Hill.’ Natasha sighed angrily. ‘Clint, you know that thinking will do you no good. Thinking like that is what compromises us, that thinking causes mistakes and deaths. You’re lucky you weren’t thinking like that today.’

‘Sorry I ran out on you,’ Clint whispered. ‘It was …’

‘Understandable. I told those idiots not to let you in. I was informed it was Stark’s fault. He’s currently sporting a nasty bruise on his left bicep. There is something incredibly satisfying about hitting that man.’

‘Oh, we both know you love ‘im, Tasha.’

‘I do _not_ love him, Barton,’ Natasha snapped ‘Anyway, my point is that what happened to Phil, what happened here, is not your fault. You were brainwashed. You were forced. Now, I am tired and I have said all I can. Try to get some sleep, Barton.’

‘Thanks, Nat. Night.’

‘Спокойной ночи, Barton.’ Natasha whispered and hung up. Clint threw his phone onto the table and, instead of sleeping, flicked on the television and forced himself not to think about his nightmare or what Natasha and Thor had said to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Спокойной ночи, Barton" translates to "Goodnight, Barton."


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many, many feels in this chapter.
> 
> TW: mentions the death of a child, suicide thoughts, and Clint blaming himself.

_'This is a bad idea.'_ Clint thought as he walked into the spacious room.

Three days ago, he’d spotted a poster stapled to a telegraph pole that caught his attention. The poster had advertised a support group from victims of the attack on New York and, when Candy had found him reading it, she had guilted him into attending. And so here he was. Regretting it even as he walked into the room.

People milled around the room, all nervous, waiting for it to begin. Clint looked down at the sticky thing attached to his fingers. The sticker loudly told people “ _My name is Clint!_ ”. He gave the sticker a disgusted look and slapped it onto his shirt only to hide it with his jacket.

‘Alright, everyone, let’s take a seat!’ Clint whipped around at the voice and glared at Candy standing up in front of everyone with her bright smile plastered on. Candy ignored the look he shot her and invited everyone to sit down again. ‘So, you aren’t obliged to speak but you are more than welcome to. So, who wants to start?’

Clint ignored the pointed look Candy gave him and sank lower into his seat. A woman stood up and took Candy’s place in front of everyone.

The format was much the same as AA meetings. The person would introduce themselves, everyone would say hi back, and the person would speak. For the first few speakers, Clint only half paid attention, a little too annoyed with Candy.

However, by the third speaker, Clint was listening as a young man stood up.

‘Hi, I’m Luke, and I’m here because I lost my baby girl in the attack.’ Luke was leaning forward in his chair and was wringing his hands.

‘Hi, Luke,’ everyone intoned.

‘Hi,’ Luke laughed nervously and ran a shaking hand through his hand. ‘Like I said, my baby girl was killed in the attack. She was three and she was the most beautiful thing. We were on our way for an optometrist appointment. She was killed when a piece of debris hit her in the head. She died instantly, which was a mercy, I s’pose, but it hurt all the same. Alyssa was a bright girl and she absolutely adored Princess Tiana, from the Disney movie with the frog, you know. These past months have been hard and more than once I’ve thought of ending it. She was my daughter and it was my job to protect her and she was killed. I failed her.’ Luke choked on his voice and had to take several breaths. ‘I failed my baby girl. My wife left me even though she kept saying that she didn't blame me. She just couldn't stay and I can’t blame her for that. People I’ve spoke to about this have asked me what I think of the Avengers.’

Clint sat up a little straighter. For weeks now, he’d been wondering what people who’d lost their loved in ones in the attack thought of them.

‘At first, I was a little pissed with them. They saved New York City but they couldn't save my little girl? I was pissed at them and everyone else. I was against them for quite a while. But I was in Central Park when those Doombots attacked. I watched the Avengers fight them and I saw one of them, Black Widow, get injured. It looked pretty bad from where I was standing, but I’m not sure. As I was standing there, watching them fight and watching Black Widow get injured, I realised something. They did their best. Yeah, they didn’t save Alyssa, and a lot of other people were killed, but New York is still standing, mostly, and we were all saved when Iron Man flew that missile into the wormhole.

‘So, when people ask me now what I think of the Avengers, I tell them this. The Avengers saved us from a much worse fate. We lost people and I know that I won’t, that I can’t, move on from losing Alyssa, but I don’t hate the Avengers. I don’t think it’s their fault that we were attacked, or that people died. I’m glad they exist. I’m glad that we have the Avengers. Alyssa would have loved them, and I hold to that. Just as I watch that damn Disney movie every Friday night like me, Alyssa, and her mum used to. So, that’s it, thanks.’ Luke shrugged and sat back in his seat, where the people next to him offered what comfort they could.

Candy then stood and asked for the next participant. Clint had no idea why, but he stood up and took the seat in front of everyone. Candy smiled softly at him in reassurance.

‘Hi, I’m Clint, and I’m here because I lost my partner in the attack.’ Everyone greeted him and Clint took his time speaking. ‘Phil was shot in the chest by one of them alien things during the attack.’ Clint figured it would be easier to change that particular detail. Clint could see the shock on Candy’s face at his announcement. ‘Phil was the most honest man I’ve ever met and he saved my life.

‘It wasn't love at first sight at all. But he became everything to me. Phil saved me in all the ways that a person can be saved. And I know that’s a line from _Titanic,_ but it's true. Phil and I worked for the same company and he was my superior, which is all very clichéd, but he always treated me like we were equals, which was something I’d never had before.

“I wasn’t with him when he died.’ Clint was now finding it hard to keep back the tears that were threatening to spill over. ‘I was miles from where he needed me. And he did need me. Phil had always, _always_ been there whenever I needed him and when he really needed me I was nowhere to be found. He died in pain and alone. His death was my fault. And although my friends and people who care have told me different, I still believe that it is my fault.

‘Today would have been our thirteenth anniversary. Unlucky number, I guess. And yesterday was the seventeenth anniversary of the day we first met. Our first meeting didn't go well. I’d joined the company a couple weeks before, and I’d been shifted around the department ‘cause I wasn’t getting along with any of the supervisors. Phil was the last I was put with and he told me straight off that he wasn't impressed with me or my skills, which I’d never gotten before, and he didn't care how good I was, he was going to treat me just the same. I respected him right off. He believed in me when no one else did.’ Clint scrubbed a hand over his face, to hide the tears. ‘I lost the man I loved and it was my fault. I can never forgive myself for that and the only one who could is gone. And I don’t know what to do anymore. That’s all I’ve got, so, thanks, I guess.’

Clint stood up and escaped out the building and dashing back to the apartment building. But, instead of going for his apartment, he went straight for the roof of the building to give himself a chance to think.

For most of his life, Clint had believed, had known, that he would never be able to find someone who cared for him, someone who loved him. Phil, he’d learnt, had believed much the same for most of his life as well. When he'd had met Phil, things hadn’t gone well, but he'd liked and respected him straight away. Phil generally had that effect on people. Even Stark had ended up respecting the man.

Since their very first meeting, Phil had been able to tell, immediately, when Clint was having a bad day, and after a few missions, Clint had been able to tell the same for Phil. They had become such an incredible team together that Fury had only ever paired them together when the mission called for just two agents. Those had been the best missions as far as either of them had been concerned. They’d been able to work how they liked and almost at their own pace.

While heavily sedated, Phil had once admitted that he’d been considering his career options when Clint had joined. He'd had said that the “talent” had become stale and he’d been questioning the point of staying, as well as his own sanity. He’d called Clint a breath of fresh air and had then promptly passed out. Clint hadn’t left his side that night, scared of losing him to his injuries, and when Phil had woken, he had vehemently denied it when Clint had reminded him what he’d said. Clint, though, had never forgotten. That was the greatest compliment anyone had given him and, in some of his darker times, he’d clutched to that memory like a lifeline.

Clint walked to the other end of the building’s roof where he could make out Stark Tower. The repairs were still taking place but Clint was a little impressed with how well Stark was doing, considering the fact that he was helping the rest of the city with the rebuilding efforts. Stark was donating money to all kinds of charities, from rebuilding to clean-up, as well helping with the redesigning and the actual building of structures.

After Phil had had his first dealings with Stark, he had come home and collapsed over Clint’s knees where he was stretched out over the lounge.

‘Something wrong?’ Clint had seen Stark’s press conference and had spent a good few minutes laughing as he’d imagined the look at Phil’s face.

‘You know exactly what’s wrong.’ Phil glared up at him. ‘Tony Stark is the problem.’

‘I thought you liked him.’ Clint laughed and started running his fingers through his lover’s hair.

‘I never said that. I said that he’d impressed me by surviving and managing to escape the cave. He’s arrogant, annoying, rude, intelligent, and completely annoying.’

‘You said annoying twice,’ Clint had pointed out. ‘Did you have fun telling him off?’

‘Didn’t need to.’ Phil had finally closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Clint’s hands in his hair. ‘Pepper Potts dealt with him. I told you about her, didn’t I?’

Phil had then spent almost three minutes exalting Miss Potts before Clint managed to distract him by undoing his shirt.

It hadn’t been long after that when Natasha had ended up in their apartment while they were having breakfast. She’d pointed a finger at Phil and declared that something was fault.

‘Probably, yes.’ Phil hadn’t even glanced up from his paper.

‘Why did you feel the need to suggest to Fury that I be the one to go undercover with Stark?’

Clint hadn’t been able to hold back his laughter. Natasha had glared daggers at him.

‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Natasha.’ Phil had looked up, smiling. ‘I thought you were the best woman for the job.’

Natasha had refused to speak to him for a week for that. Clint had been surprised when Phil had seemed friendlier with Stark than before when they had been on their way to New Mexico. And then he’d learnt it was because he’d gotten to hold a replica of Captain America’s shield in Stark’s lab.

Clint had long since gotten used to Phil’s fanboy status by then and had simply rolled his eyes when Phil had told him. Then, of course, the man had been discovered alive in the ice. That day at work had been a bit nuts. All of SHIELD had gone into overdrive and Phil had been a little more animated in front of his colleagues than normal. Clint had then found him watching as SHIELD medical attempted to thaw out the Captain.

‘That’s not creepy at all,’ Clint had teased. Phil had hung his head in mock shame and then smirked at him. ‘You creepy bastard.’ He'd pressed a light kiss to Phil’s cheekbone, just because he could.

‘He’s survived encased in ice for seventy years. Medical thinks it’s because of the serum. They don’t know how long it’ll take for him to wake up.’

Captain Steven Rogers, United States Army, Captain America, had looked peaceful in the ice, and Clint wondered why they were bothering to wake him. He'd fully expected Steve to be far more shocked about the twenty-first century than he had ended up being. Phil had looked ecstatic at the discovery.

‘Should I be worried about you leaving me for Captain Comatose in there?’ Clint hadn’t meant it at all; he just enjoyed teasing Phil way too much. Phil, however, hadn’t picked up on his teasing tone and had looked genuinely worried. He’d surprised Clint by leaning over to press a less than chaste kiss to his lips and brushing his fingers against the inside of his wrist.

‘Of course not, Clint, you know that.’

‘I’m kidding,’ Clint had laughed at him and turned back to the scene in medical. ‘You think he’ll adjust?’

‘He’ll be fine. He was able to adjust quickly and easily to changes in battle situations, so I don’t see how adjusting to the twenty-first century should be any different.’

~~~

That had been yet another thing about Phil that he had loved. Phil had believed in people, and more importantly he had believed in those he worked with and cared about. Phil had believed in Clint as soon as they’d met. He’d believed in Natasha when Clint had brought her back to SHIELD. He’d believed in Captain America and Steve Rogers. He’d believed that Tony Stark was essentially a good man and could be a great hero. He’d believed that Thor had never meant any harm to them in New Mexico. He’d believed that Bruce Banner could be a hero and that was a good man. He’d believed in them all, and in the Avengers.

Clint had thought he was crazy and he still did.

The Avengers Initiative was a great idea in theory but Clint just didn't see it working. Not with this group anyway. Each person considered a part of the team had their merits and their downfalls, including himself, but he simply could not see it working. For a start, it had taken almost forty-five minutes for them to come together for the Doombots and they’d been lucky that Thor had actually been on the planet when he was needed. Forty-five minutes was just too long. There was no way that they would be able to get together fast enough when they were desperately needed.

Besides that, they didn't all get along. Although they had all been friendly enough New York, Steve and Stark didn't get along, and Natasha still couldn't stand to be near Stark either.

It couldn't work.

~~~

Unbeknownst to Clint, Tony Stark had a secret obsession. Every week, Tony would lock himself in his lab in Stark Tower and hacked into the CCTV cameras in a community centre and listened to the stories of people who had been affected by the attack on the city after seeing a flyer for the group.

He'd gotten a shock when Jarvis had pointed out that Barton had entered the community centre. Tony had stopped working on Dummy’s circuits and looked up at the footage of a clearly distressed Clint Barton.

‘Let me know if he gets up to speak. Oh, and if he does record it.’ Tony turned his attention to Dummy’s circuits as the bot whirred at him. ‘Stop moving, you useless thing.’ Tony admonished.

‘Sir, is recording Agent Barton wise?’ Jarvis questioned.

‘Probably not, but do it anyway.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Jarvis didn't sound happy about that, but it didn't worry Tony.

After three speakers, Tony put aside his tools, finally done and turned to watch the next speaker, some guy called Luke. Jarvis had helpfully supplied a direct view of Barton so Tony could see his reactions to the speakers. Tony listened to this Luke guy and was only a little surprised that he liked them. He was constantly keeping an eye on social media for anything about the Avengers. The general consensus was that the Avengers were useful, _and_ that they were a genuine force for good.

‘Sir, Agent Barton is going to speak.’

Tony sat back in his chair to watch. However, as soon as Barton began talking, Tony leant forward. He remembered Phil saying that there was a cellist in Portland. He’d offered to fly him out there, and he’d never even guessed that he may have batted for the other team. Especially not with bird brain Barton, who he also hadn’t expected to bat for the other side.

Tony listened to Barton speak and wondered how he could’ve missed that. He supposed that Barton was just that good of an actor.

‘You get all that, Jarvis?’ Tony asked, still watching Barton even as he ran.

‘Yes, Sir,’ Jarvis, sounding slightly annoyed.

‘Wonderful. Keep it in storage.’ Tony had never intended to use the recording as blackmail, but he wasn't going to get rid of it either.

You never knew when blackmail could come in the handy.                                                                                          

_‘This is a bad idea,’_ Clint thought as he walked into the spacious room.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some violence is this chapter but it's not graphic.

Clint stared dejectedly up at SHIELD HQ. Fury had called him earlier that morning claiming that he had a mission for the team and he was needed to come in for the briefing. Clint, however, wasn't entirely sure this wasn’t just some trick to get him to attend to therapy.

Fury had tried to force him into therapy before now, but he’d refused. Clint steeled himself for the possibility and walked in with his head held high. The agents that he passed all greeted him as warmly as SHIELD agents could get, but Clint kept his eyes forward and concentrated on getting to the meeting room. Not surprisingly he was one of the last to arrive. The only other person not there yet was Stark.

‘Oh, good, now get Stark here,’ Fury barked when Clint walked in. Clint dropped into his chair between Natasha and Bruce and looked on questioningly as Bruce pulled out his phone and shot off a text.

‘Stark refused to hang around until you got here. We think he’s in Bruce’s lab,’ Natasha whispered to him. Clint rolled his eyes and sunk a little lower in his seat, and began picking at the table.

A few minutes later, Stark sauntered in and slid into his chair.

‘Right, now that Barton and Stark have graced us with their presence we can get on with things. Last night we intercepted an encoded message that we suspect was being sent to a European drug gang with ties to several terrorist organisations, including the Ten Rings, who were the ones who nearly managed to rid us of Stark.’

Stark snorted, unimpressed.

‘Doctor Banner here decoded the message and brought it to my attention. The message clearly tells us that these fuckers plan to blow up a casino in Vegas.’ Stark’s head suddenly shot up at that. Fury glanced at him and smirked. ‘Thought that would get your attention. The target is Caesar’s Palace. Obviously, we can’t let that happen.’

‘You think?’ Stark interjected. ‘The world would end if Caesar’s was blown up.’

‘Moving on.’ Fury indicated a holographic board which was displaying a map of Eastern Europe. Fury pointed at Belarus. ‘The gang is based in Minsk, capital of Belarus, and have strong ties to the Russian Mafia, as well as the Ten Rings. The message Banner decoded suggests that the three organisations are working together to blow up Caesar’s. You lot get a free trip to Minsk to deal with this. You’ll be leaving in a Quinjet flown primarily by Barton in four hours. However, because of Belarus’ current political problems, you’ll actually be landing on the Polish side of the border, in Gmina Parczew, 274 miles from Minsk. You’ll have to make it overland yourselves. Incognito, Stark. Once you get into Minsk, what you do is up to you lot. I don't care how you do it, just disable the drug gang. Clear?’ The rest of them nodded in understanding.

‘What happened to no active duty?’ Clint asked. Fury and the others turned to look at him.

‘Are you refusing me, Barton?’

‘No, just questioning.’ Clint was not happy to be called in for this. He hadn’t minded going to Central Park, because that had been in the city. This would require him going to fucking _Belarus_.

‘We need you flying the jet,’ Fury replied.

In his peripheral vision, Clint saw the others sharing worried looks, but they would be staying out of this for as long as they could.

‘Natasha could do it.’

‘Yeah, she could, but I’m telling you to do it. Have a problem with that, agent?’

‘Yes.’ Clint gave Fury a tight lipped smile and crossed his arms.

‘And why is that?’ Fury demanded of him.

‘I’m not on active duty,’ Clint replied easily.

‘No, you _were_ on active duty. You’re not anymore. And you were fine with going to Central Park.’

‘Cause that was in the city and …’

‘… and you could run away afterwards,’ Fury interrupted, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. ‘You came in for that because you knew you would be able to run afterwards. And if you agree to this you won’t be able to run away so fuckin’ easy. Ain’t that right, agent?’

Clint recognised that Fury was trying to humiliate him. But Fury was underestimating him.

‘Exactly, sir.’ Clint leant back in his chair and kicked his legs up onto the table. ‘I don’t want to go to fucking Belarus. Not even to save some crappy casino.’

Clint ignored Stark’s indignant yell and kept his eyes on Fury.

‘And yet, you’re going. So I would suggest that you deal with it, Barton.’

‘Clint, we want you with us,’ Steve interjected. Clint almost asked ‘why?’ when Fury interrupted.

‘Because he doesn’t trust himself and he doesn’t think you lot should either.’ Clint had a sudden urge to gouge out Fury’s good eye. ‘Barton, you aren’t brainwashed anymore. Romanov saw to that. They’ve got no reason to mistrust you. You were almost entirely under the influence of mind control.’

_Wait, almost?_

‘Wait, almost?’

Fury looked at him like he was utterly insane.

‘Yes, Barton, almost. When Loki ordered you to shoot me, you fired at my chest. You know I wear a bullet proof vest when going into a possible hostile situation. You knew that, and yet you shot me in the chest. Where you knew the shot wouldn’t kill me. Barton, you are the best sharpshooter we have and you always go for the kill shot when ordered. You were ordered, under magical mind control, to kill me. You should have fired two shots to the head and three to the heart. Yet you fired once into my protected chest.’

Clint was astounded. He had never thought about that before.

‘You are going on this mission, Barton. You are fit for active duty, and I never actually took you off it. Have fun, you lot.’ Fury gave them all a hard look and stalked out, leaving Clint shocked. Natasha squeezed his forearm to reassure him.

‘Seein’ as that’s been sorted out, can't we just go straight to Belarus?’ Stark asked.

‘No. Belarus isn’t part of the United Nations, and they aren’t very friendly with SHIELD.’ Natasha replied. ‘We’ll have to travel the 274 miles as ordinary civilians. Clint and I know the area. We’ll be able to sneak across the Poland-Belarus border easily. We may have to steal a car, though.’

‘Fine by me.’ Stark smirked.

‘If we have to.’ Steve had stood up and was now inspecting Fury’s map. ‘Are there any check points?’

‘There might be.’ Natasha replied ‘We’ll need disguises. Stark’ll have to find a way to hide the suit.’

‘Easy,’ Stark chimed in.

Clint zoned out of the conversation, only paying attention when he was mentioned or spoken to directly, thinking over Fury’s words.                

~~~

A lot of planning and four hours later, and they were all piled into a Quinjet ready for take-off. Clint and Natasha were up front ready to go, but they were all waiting on Stark. When he finally turned up, carrying his briefcase suit, he looked at them as though they were the late ones.

Clint finally got the plane off the ground and he was happy to be back flying a Quinjet. Normally, a flight between New York and Poland took about nine hours. However, in the Quinjet it would only take a little over five. Yet stuck in a Quinjet for five hours with Stark and a man who turned into an angry green monster was not Clint’s idea of fun. He couldn’t help but think that if Phil was there it would’ve been a lot easier to deal with.

As it was, he had to deal with the crazy fuckers by himself. Thank fuck for Natasha and Steve. Half way through the flight, Stark started getting bored and began talking science with Bruce. This was unbelievably annoying not only ‘cause he could hear the crap they were talking about but because he really wasn’t in the mood for listening to them and it was beginning to grate.

‘Oh, for the God’s sake, Stark, will you please shut the hell up!’ Natasha yelled back at them.

‘Shh, Widow, scienceing.’ Stark replied. ‘Oh, Barton, the hell did you get plutonium from?’ He came forward and leant against the entrance way to the cockpit.

‘None of your business,’ Clint replied. ‘I have plutonium arrows, so what?’

‘So what? I have hoops that I have to jump through to get hold of plutonium, and you’ve got arrows made of the stuff. Fury know?’

‘Tony, does it really matter?’ Steve admonished.

‘Yeah, it does, Stevie,’ Stark threw back. ‘I wanna know how _Barton_ gets plutonium but _I_ don't.’

‘Coulson got hold of it,’ Clint answered. ‘He found a cache of it somewhere in India and he brought it back for SHIELD and I may have stolen some.’

‘You _stole_ plutonium from SHIELD? I’m gonna have to rethink my opinion of you,’ Stark said, grinning.

‘Technically, I stole it from Coulson.’ Clint grinned back.

Stark hummed in thought and moved back to restart his conversation with Bruce. Clint could feel Natasha’s eyes on him but he kept his eyes forward, grin in place. Natasha smirked and turned her eyes back to the front.

Thirty minutes later, and Stark was complaining about boredom, again.

‘I am going to die.’ Stark pretended to swoon and fell in against Bruce’s side. ‘Honey bear, what do I do?’

‘I have no idea, Tony.’

Clint glanced over at Natasha at Bruce’s words, and noticed that Natasha’s eyes were closed. This was not good at all.

‘Get ‘im, Nat,’ Clint whispered to her. Natasha smirked at him and gracefully made her way to Stark and quickly knocked him out with a couple of nerve strikes.

‘Oh, good, now he’s a dead weight,’ Bruce drawled. Natasha grabbed Stark’s arm and together the two of them pushed him into a different position so that he wasn't lying against Bruce.

‘Steve, could you sit up with Clint. I need sleep.’ Natasha didn’t wait for an answer and curled up on a seat to sleep. Steve walked into the cockpit.

‘Do you mind?’ Steve asked. Clint rolled his eyes and nodded at the seat Natasha had vacated. Steve took the seat and strapped in, just in case. ‘How are you, Clint?’

‘Really? We're gonna do this?’ Clint glanced at Steve and saw that, yes, they were going to do this. ‘Fine. I’m fine, Steve, you don’t need to ask every time you see me.’

‘Yes, I do,’ Steve responded. ‘I want to know how you’re doing.’ He glanced back at the others. ‘I know that you’re living alone, somewhere, and I know that you’re helping with the civilian clean-up of the city. But none of that tells me how you are.’

‘Steve, trust me, if I wasn’t completely okay, you’d know about it.’

‘How?’ Steve obviously wasn’t buying it.

‘Because I wouldn’t be here,’ Clint replied. ‘I would have taken off and you probably never would have seen me again. Including Nat.’

Steve allowed the conversation to drop off then. The remained of the flight was completed in near silence.

When they did finally land in Poland, it was left to Clint to wake Natasha up. They hid the jet in the brush and Bruce marked the place on a map that Steve was carrying. Once Stark was awake properly, Clint and Natasha took point and lead the group towards the border.

They made it to a section of the border that wasn’t patrolled--despite this, though, they would still need to be very careful. Relations between Poland and Belarus weren’t great but there weren’t any massive issues either. Once they had ensured it was clear, they crossed the border in three small groups: Steve, Tony, and Bruce, Thor by himself, and then Clint and Natasha.

‘If we can find a car or something, the ride might only take about four hours. If not, it’ll take days,’ Natasha said, once they had gotten a safe distance from the border.

‘Can we try to avoid stealing a vehicle? These people haven’t done anything, so I’d rather not inconvenience them.’ Steve indicated the locals in the nearest village.

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Natasha slipped away from them and a few minutes later they saw her pop up in the village, looking for all the world like she belonged there. The boys sat back to wait for her to come back.

‘Well, this is fun.’ Stark brushed bits of grass off his jeans.

‘Aren’t you usually covered in grease and crap?’ Clint was keeping his eyes on Natasha who was now talking to an older guy. They were too far away for even Clint to be able to read their lips.

‘Grease, yes. Crap, not so much.’ Stark brushed off more grass. ‘And definitely not fucking grass.’

‘Quit complaining, Tony. Grass is better than mud.’ Steve was watching Natasha and the surrounding area. Stark grumbled something else but no one was listening. ‘Natasha’s on her way back.’

Natasha came back to them, smiling. ‘We have transport.’

~~~

The vehicles Natasha had managed to get for them were two old UAV-469 trucks. The trucks would each fit three of them, with Clint and Natasha each driving. Clint got stuck in a truck with Stark and Steve, while Natasha had elected to drive Bruce and Thor. Steve had, thankfully, relegated Stark to the back so it would be easier for Clint to ignore him. Clint had quietly thanked Steve for that executive decision.

As they were driving though, Stark was quietly complaining about the crappiness of the vehicles and the countryside and having to go incognito and having to carry his briefcase suit.

‘Fuck’s sake, Stark, stop complaining,’ Clint snapped at him. ‘Shut up and let me drive. Steve, please, give him somethin’ to do before I crash this truck.’

‘Tony.’ Steve twisted slightly in his seat so that he could see him. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘It is, it’s boring. I’m bored. Aren’t you bored, Steve? You should be bored,’ Tony rambled. ‘I am bored. There’s nothing to do; there’s nothing to see. You guys are boring me. I should be talking science with Bruce.’

‘No, you should be quiet.’ Clint said.

‘How’s the clean-up going?’ Stark asked.

‘Better since Candy cashed that cheque,’ Clint said, not at all embarrassed. ‘You’re welcome by the way. Glad we could help clean up your property.’

‘Yeah, thanks for that, you did a crappy job but whatever.’ Stark leant forward in his seat and shared a look with Steve. ‘What’s up with that, anyway?’

‘Up with what?’ Although Clint knew what he was talking about, he’d found that it was more fun to play dumb. That way people didn’t expect him to have anything worthwhile to say. The looks he got were always priceless.

‘With the citizen clean-up crew thing. Why are you helping to clean the city?’ Stark asked. He didn't seem like he was being malicious at all; he was genuinely curious.

‘Helped make it, help clean it,’ Clint responded.

‘And you have to be out of SHIELD to do it?’ Steve asked gently.

‘No, but it’s easier that way.’ Clint shifted in his seat; he was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable with the conversation. ‘Living away from SHIELD is just better right now.’

‘Better how?’ Steve asked.

‘Better to be away from-’

‘People you betrayed?’ Stark said. Clint didn’t bother answering. ‘You didn't betray anyone, Barton. Mind control, man, mind control. You can’t control yourself, that’s kind the point.’ Stark flicked his ear and received a light punch on the shoulder from Steve for his efforts. ‘What? It's true! You can’t control how you act when you’re under mind control. Although you did manage it a little. You didn’t kill Fury, which is a shame by the way.’

‘I’ll aim better next time,’ Clint quipped at him.

‘You do that.’ Stark leaned back in his seat and stared out over the landscape.

‘Are you enjoying it?’ Steve asked conversationally.

‘Mostly.’ Clint slowed down behind Natasha as farm animals crossed the road. ‘I like the work 'cause you don't have to really think. I like hanging out with Candy, Sasha too when she helps out.’

‘Who’s Sasha?’ Steve asked.

‘Uh, Candy’s girlfriend,’ Clint glanced at Steve to gauge his reaction. There was some surprise there but nothing to suggest any latent ‘40s homophobia. ‘But there’s these two who won’t stop with the flirting, but whatever.’

‘Who’s flirting?’ Stark leant forward again.

‘None of your business,’ Clint replied, speeding up again to stay with Natasha.

‘How much longer?’ Stark whined.

‘Two fucking hours.’

~~~

It had been going well. But, inevitably, it had gone bad, and damn quick too.

The plan had been very simple: go into the drug lord’s compound, round everyone up, blow the compound, and call in SHIELD to clean it up.

Of course, nothing was ever that simple. They'd entered the compound easily enough, and then an alarm had gone off. They'd scattered to ensure that the job would eventually get done. Clint had ducked behind a Dumpster and made his way to where he needed to be.

And then he’d gotten shot. Right in the left shoulder.

The wound had made it harder for him to aim, not impossible, but every time he did aim, the muscles in his shoulder stretched and pulled and made him see stars. Yet he’d persisted. He was currently hidden underneath a staircase, breathing deep, and trying to ignore the pull of muscles in his shoulder. He’d managed to stop the flow of blood, for now, but he’d lost a lot. He was starting to feel light-headed, and he could feel himself going into shock.

‘Cap,’ Clint rasped into his comm. ‘I’m, ah, starting to go over here.’

‘Hawkeye, we’re almost there. Stay with us for another minute. We’re coming, Clint, we’re coming.’

‘Think you could make it sooner for me, Cap? I’m not really … feelin’ great. I think. I’m not sure.’ Clint leaned forward and held his head between his knees. ‘Oh, not good. Real sorry. Just shot bad.’ Clint knew, somehow, that he was rambling on, but he didn't know how to stop. ‘Nat, you there?’

‘Where else would I be, Barton?’ Natasha’s voice cut through the haze and brought Clint back to himself a little. ‘You going to stay awake or are we going to have to carry you?’ There was something about Natasha’s words that struck him.

‘Not sure, Nat,’ Clint answered. ‘Don't feel right. Should’ve been here.’

‘We know, Hawkeye. We’re almost there.’

‘Not you, Cap. Phil. Phil should’ve been here.’ Clint wasn't sure why he said it but he knew. ‘Phil should have been here.’

‘Hold on, Hawkeye. We’re coming. Clint, we’re coming.’ Steve’s voice sounded very distant and the edges were closing in him. He could distantly hear Nat’s voice calling to him but he just couldn’t hold on anymore.

~~~

‘… idiot okay?’

Clint was beginning to rise through the blackness enough to understand Natasha. He felt two fingers pressed against the inside of his left wrist, no doubt someone checking his pulse. The sounds of the Quinjet’s engines were calming, and he wondered who was flying.

‘He’s going to be okay.’ Bruce’s fingers left his wrist and he could hear him rustling around. ‘He did lose a lot of blood, but he managed to stem the flow quickly so he’ll be fine. He probably shouldn’t use his bow for a while though. To allow his muscles to heal properly.’

‘He won’t like that.’ Natasha ran her fingers through his hair. ‘What about his mission to clean the city?’

‘Also not a good idea,’ Bruce replied. ‘He’ll just make it worse.’

‘Bite me, Banner,’ Clint mumbled. Bruce laughed softly in reply. Clint cracked his eyes open and looked around. He could only see Natasha and Bruce. ‘Please don’t tell me Stark’s flying.’

‘No, Steve’s flying. He picked it up watching me,’ Natasha supplied. ‘It’s about time you woke up, Barton.’ Natasha gave him one of her small smiles and squeezed his wrist.

‘Where are we?’ Clint asked, sitting up slowly.

‘About five minutes outside New York,’ Bruce answered, checking his pulse again. ‘You lost quite a bit of blood but I’m not too worried about that. I removed the bullet from your shoulder and did what I could. Ideally though, you should have medical check you out.’

‘Nah, I trust you, Bruce.’ Clint answered, nodding at Thor who he’d just spotted sitting in one of the seats, opposite them.

Thor beamed back at him.

‘It is good to see you awake, my friend. You had us worried.’

‘Sorry, man. Couldn’t help it.’ Clint sat back for the last five minutes of the flight, leaning against Natasha’s shoulder.

When they finally landed, Clint slung an arm across Bruce’s shoulder and let him led him down the gangway. Clint was looking down at the floor, watching the steps, and so only knew something was wrong when he felt Bruce tense up underneath his arm. Clint glanced at Bruce and then up at the landing dock.

General Thaddeus Ross was standing there looking up at the both of them, surrounded by two dozen of his military lackey underlings, all with their weapons drawn.

‘Agent Clint Barton, I am here to arrest you for treason and terrorism charges.'


	7. Chapter Seven

‘Agent Clint Barton, I am here to arrest you for treason and terrorism charges.’

General Ross stood surrounded by his armed cronies and glared up at Clint and Bruce on the gangway. Bruce was incredibly tense beside Clint, and was clearly trying to keep his breathing under control. Clint squeezed Bruce’s shoulder and stepped away from him.

‘Surely you don’t need so many guards, Ross.’ Clint slowly began walking down the gangway, hugging his injured arm to his chest.

‘They’re not for you.’ Ross’s eyes narrowed up at Bruce.

‘Oh, Brucie won’t do anything.’ Clint reached the ground and stood before Ross. ‘I am formally presenting myself for arrest without incident.’

Ross stared at him as though he were crazy but recovered quickly.

‘Good. Hands, Agent.’

‘No.’ Bruce stepped in front of Clint out of nowhere and stared Ross down. ‘You can’t take him.’

‘Banner, step aside.’ Ross inclined his head back towards his goons. ‘You try anything and they’ll shoot you.’

‘No, they won’t.’ Clint replied eyeing Bruce. ‘It would be bad for their health.’

‘They will do as they are told.’ Ross pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

‘Kinky, but I _have_ been shot in the shoulder.’ Clint demonstrated by lifting his arm away from his body. ‘Handcuffs would be pointless.’

‘Not as far as I’m concerned. Now, Barton.’

‘You are not taking him, Ross.’ Bruce’s voice quavered slightly, but he stood his ground. ‘Clint is going nowhere, especially not with you.’

‘Banner, this is none of your concern.’

‘Yes, it is. Clint is my friend and I can’t let you take him. And the charges are absolutely ridiculous. Treason and terrorism? Clint was being mind controlled.’

Clint noticed that Bruce’s hands were shaking slightly at his sides. Clint placed a gentle hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

‘Bruce, it’s okay.’ Clint managed a small smile at Bruce. ‘I’ll go with him.’

‘No, you won’t.’

Natasha, Thor, Steve, and Stark had come down the gangway, and Natasha was giving Ross a nasty look.

‘General Ross, may I ask why you intend to arrest Agent Barton?’ Steve, despite his dirty suit, had easily slipped into the role of Army captain. He moved in front of Clint and rested the edge of his shield on the ground.

Bruce, glad to have back up, now stepped behind Clint and relaxed slightly.

‘Charges of treason and terrorism, Captain. You’re lucky I’m not trying to arrest that one as well.’ Ross pointed past all of them up at Thor.

‘I’d like to see you try.’ Stark now stepped forward, pulled out his phone and began tapping away at it. ‘Tell me, do you have a warrant?’

Clint could almost hear Ross grinding his teeth.

‘I’ll take that as a no, then. Hey, Cap, can he do that?’

‘No, he can’t.’ Steve replied. ‘General Ross, I'm afraid that without a warrant for Agent Barton’s arrest, we can’t allow him to leave the building in your company.’

‘Guys, really, it’s okay.’

Clint didn't really know why they were bothering. The charges were true enough and he was more than happy to go with Ross.

‘Shut up, Barton,’ Natasha said from behind him.

‘Hey, Pep,’ Stark said into his phone while idly picking at his suit. ‘Are our lawyers busy? Relax, Pep, it’s not for me. It’s to take out Ross. He wants to arrest Barton without a warrant.’

‘Put that away, Stark,’ Ross tried to command.

‘Don’t you dare hang up, Stark,’ Steve commanded. Stark smirked and remained on the line with Pepper.

Clint looked around the hangar as he heard another door open. Fury, Hill and several other agents stalked through the doors.

‘Ross, sorry it took me so long to get here.’ Fury’s voice carried across the hangar. ‘But it would seem that news is travelling slower than usual around this place.’

‘Director Fury, I am here to arrest …’

‘Barton, I know.’ Fury interrupted as he drew even with them. ‘And you aren’t going to. You don't have any authority over any of my agents, including that idiot.’

Fury pointed at Clint, who had sense enough to look sheepish.

‘I don’t mind going with them.’ Clint managed to duck a smack from Natasha. ‘No, guys, they have a point. It was treason and terrorism.’

‘Clint, shut the hell up. Stark, how are those lawyers coming along?’ Steve glanced at Stark, still on his phone.

‘Very nicely. Pep’s talkin’ to them now.’ Stark grinned down at Ross.

Ross stared around at all of them defending Clint, including the not so subtle armed SHIELD agents.

‘Like I said Ross, you don’t have any authority here so get the fuck off my base.’

‘This isn’t over, Barton. You will be held accountable for your actions.’

Ross and his goons turned on their heels and marched off the base.

‘Barton, get to medical. Rogers, report. Rest of you make sure he goes to medical.’

Bruce and Natasha took up posts on either side of Clint and escorted him to medical. Stark, meanwhile, had ended his call with Pepper and was listening to Thor talk about the battle. Clint went along with them but only because the pain in his shoulder was starting to come back. When they did arrive, the medical officer ushered the others out believing that Clint would be more inclined to remain if he wasn't being watched. He could not have been more wrong.

The doctor had briefly left the room to get something or other and Clint took his chance to escape. He grabbed his shirt and sneaked out of the room and straight past the rest of the medical staff. Clint took off down the hall and came to a dead stop when he saw Stark’s back.

Clint clambered up onto a railing along the wall and prised open an air vent. Clint glanced at the gathered group of heroes and only felt a little bad about leaving them behind as he pulled himself up and closed the vent grate behind him. Clint made short work of traversing the vents to escape the base.

He decided on a whim to take the long way home through Bryant Park, hoping that the fresh air might help with the pain coursing through his body, but only made it half way through the park before realising he needed to sit down for a spell. He collapsed onto a bench staring up at the still damaged Stark Tower.

The sun was beginning to set over the city and Clint was bathed in warm sunlight. He closed his eyes lightly and breathed in the wonderfully scented air. Although Clint wasn't much of a flowers man, Phil had usually kept their apartment stocked with daisies or, rarely, English roses. The scent of these flowers now smelt like home to Clint.

‘Clint!’

Clint startled at the sound of Candy’s voice and smiled at the two girls racing towards him. Candy’s hair had now been dyed a bright pink.

‘Love the new hair, Candy. What are you two doing here?’

‘We were going to dinner. You wanna come with?’ Candy smiled at him even as Sasha’s shoulders slumped.

‘Nah, thanks, Candy. I’m good. You have fun.’

‘You sure?’ Candy sat down on the bench beside him. ‘What’s happening, sugar plum?’

‘Sugar plum? Really?’

Candy grinned at him and pressed closer. Sasha sighed and sat down on the other side of her girlfriend.

‘Yep. Now, what’s going on with you? You look sad.’

‘I’m not sad, Candy. Just been a long day.’

‘Liar. You miss Phil, huh?’ Candy lightly took hold of his hand and squeezed.

‘Maybe. Yes. Shut up, Candy. Go to dinner.’ Clint let go of Candy’s hand and motioned for her and Sasha to leave.

‘Nope. I have just one question. Who are you, Clint Barton? I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.’

‘I doubt it, Candy.’

‘He’s Hawkeye, you idiot.’ Sasha spoke up. ‘We saw him pulling people from a bus on the bridge. You said he was the sexiest Avenger.’ Sasha clearly wasn't enjoying this conversation.

Candy spun back towards Clint and gaped at him.

‘I am not Hawkeye,’ Clint said quickly. ‘I’m just Clint. No one special.’

‘Are you lying to me again, sugar plum?’

‘Maybe.’ Clint had the sudden harsh realisation that Candy had joined the very small group of people who he had trouble lying to.

‘You complete and utter bastard.’ Candy swatted at his arm. ‘You _are_ Hawkeye.’

‘No, Candy, I’m not. Haven’t been for a while.’

‘You’re lying again.’ Candy smiled softly at him and squeezed his forearm. ‘Clint, sugar plum, there can only be one Hawkeye. And that’s you, isn’t it?’

‘Not anymore, Candy. Phil was everything to me and I got him killed.’

‘How?’

‘Because I was busy betraying him, SHIELD, and the country.’ Clint looked away from Candy and stared up at the damn tower. ‘I was being controlled by an alien god called Loki. He killed Phil.’

Candy leant her head on Clint’s shoulder and sighed against him.

‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. But, Clint, I don’t think it’s your fault. If you were being mind controlled than there’s nothing you could’ve done. And I don't think Phil would blame you either.’

‘You didn't know Phil.’

‘Clint, please listen to me.’

Candy forced Clint to look at her and kissed both his cheeks.

‘You’re right, I didn't know Phil but when you were talking about him at the meeting he sounded like a wonderful guy. Why would he blame you anyway? Phil loved you, Clint. I don't think he’d have blamed you for what happened. Not that you believe me.’

‘Sorry, Candy, can’t. I can’t believe you or Natasha. I got him killed and no one can make me think different.’

‘Well, I can fucking try, can’t I? What could you have really done, Clint? Obviously I don't know everything that happened but I do know that it couldn't have been down to you. Mind control, Clint, generally means that you can’t control what you’re doing.’

‘Go to dinner, Candy.’                                                                                                                    

Clint kissed Candy’s cheek and winked at Sasha, who rolled her eyes at him.

‘Why don’t you like me, Sasha?’

‘Because I don’t. Candy, he isn’t going to listen. He’s a stubborn moron who’s too weighed down by guilt to listen, let alone function, and he doesn't care what people who care for ‘im think. Let him deal with it alone if he likes. We have a reservation.’

Sasha pulled Candy to her feet and began dragging her off. Clint could see Candy telling her off and after a few yards Sasha stopped, sighed, and made her way back over by herself.

‘Listen to me, Barton, I’m only apologising because Candy seems to like you. I’m sorry for what I said, even though I’m right. From the sounds of it, this Phil sounds like a good guy and I don't see why he’d blame you. You were partners, right, in more than the boyfriend-but-won’t-say-that-word sense? Well, if he was your partner then he would’ve trusted you right?’ Sasha had slumped into the seat beside him and was staring at him in a very unnerving way. ‘If he trusted you, then I doubt that he’d blame you for what happened to him. It sounds like he loved you just as much as I love Candy, god help me. Stop blaming yourself, moron, and find something else to live for.

‘I understand that Phil meant everything to you. But he’s gone now and you can’t change that, no matter how much you want to. Phil is _not_ coming back, Barton, and there is no point in moping about it much longer. Hate me all you like, Barton, but you know I’m right. You cannot keep blaming yourself for his death so you have to move on. Simple as that. See you round.’

Sasha clapped him on the shoulder and walked away to join Candy who waved back at him.

Clint turned his attention back to Stark Tower and stared up at the sky above the tower. The sun had almost completely set by now and the sun’s final rays were making the tower gleam. It was actually an inspiring sight. The glass windows were glinting in the setting light as the rays streamed from either side of the building.

Sasha’s words were still ringing in his ears even as he stood up several minutes later to walk the rest of the way home. By now, the pain in his shoulder had abated somewhat and he was able to walk without his shoulder jarring on every other step.

When he did get back home, Clint stripped off and climbed into a hot shower. The water helped to relieved some of the tension across his shoulders and down his back. Clint stood underneath the spray for a good ten minutes before finally stepping out, taking several pain killers and collapsing into bed to sleep for almost twelve hours.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is very heavy on the grief and some parts of it may be triggering.

They had failed to get the package again and, again, Clint had stepped on the trigger. This time, however, he didn't stop to stare down at it -- instead he kept running towards the SUV and by some miracle (mistake) Clint got there before it blew up. 

 Phil turned his lifeless eyes on Clint, who had to force himself to stay put. The SUV suddenly exploded before

Clint's eyes, but the flames and force didn't touch him. He turned towards where Phil's body would end up and watched in horror as he slammed to the ground. Clint raced over and fell to his knees.

 'Phil, Phil, look at me, Phil, come on.' Clint shook Phil's shoulders and still recoiled when those eyes turned on him again.

 'Your fault ... your fault.'

 'I know, Phil, I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

 Phil kept muttering 'Your ... fault' over and over and Clint clung to him, apologising again and again.

Light footsteps interrupted his grieving. Clint scrambled back when he saw who was shambling towards them. It was himself. Himself with bright blue, enchanted eyes. Clint stared up at this empty and used version of himself as it crouched down beside Phil and pressed a hand over Phil's heart. When it pulled the hand away, blood was spreading across Phil's jacket.

 'No!' Clint leaped forward and pushed the empty version of himself away. 'Stay away from him!' Clint pressed his hands over the wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

 A small voice in the back of his mind (that sounded remarkably like Natasha) reminded him that Phil was already gone. 

 'It is no good,' the other Clint muttered in a gravelly, distorted mixture of Loki's and his own voice. 'He is dead. You have killed him.'

 'Your ... fault ...' 

 --

 Clint woke sprawled on the floor beside the bed. He lay there listening to the sound of his own heavy breathing intermixed with the sounds of the city. Once he had mostly pulled himself together, he disentangled himself from the sheets and lurched into the bathroom. Closing his eyes to splash water onto his face, he focused on calming his pulse and stomach. Phil's dead eyes stared at him from behind his own eyelids, and finally he gave in to the urge and emptied the meagre contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

 Once he had thoroughly brushed his teeth, Clint walked out and collapsed at the table, burying his face against his forearms, and allowed himself to finally weep. Other than the wracking sobs, he didn't move. It felt ... cathartic to let it out like this. A small part of him wished for the gentle pressure of a small hand on the back of his neck, and Clint knew that all it would take was one call for Natasha to come to him. He did not reach for his phone.

 He didn't know how long he sat there sobbing, but when the tears stopped he sat up and winced at the pull of his muscles, particularly his still healing shoulder. It had been two weeks since he'd been shot and slowly, slowly he was healing. He massaged at the tender muscle, ignoring the stabbing pain. He had a medical test in a week and he needed to be healed. He needed to be able to use his bow. 

He glanced around the still filthy apartment and his eyes landed on his laptop, perched precariously on top of the TV. Clint suddenly thought back to the last meeting he'd attended, where someone had spoken in passing about therapeutic letters she had written during rehab. The idea was that an addict, or anyone really, would write a letter to someone they loved or had wronged. It wasn't something that needed to be sent -- it was about the patient. Being able to get those thoughts down. The woman at the meeting had said it helped her get over the loss of her husband. 

Clint grabbed a yellow legal pad and pen and settled himself at the table. After a few minutes of thinking, he began to write. He would sporadically stop writing to think or shift into a more comfortable position.

As he wrote, the sun began to rise over the city and the sounds drifting up from below changed and got louder. Birds (damn pigeons) sang as the city came to (day) life. Clint didn't notice any of this. Despite stopping occasionally to think, Clint's entire mind was focused on writing. There was nothing more important that early morning than writing this never to be read letter. At one point, he did begin to weep again and the drops splashed onto the page, marking it. Yet, still, he didn't stop.

Finally, when the sun had risen and the city was awake, Clint lay down his pen and sat back staring down at the pages of his letter. It had been incredibly cathartic. Clint still felt the guilt, the shame, at it all but somehow it was easier to accept now. Clint folded the pages into a an envelope and scrawled 

' _To My Phil,_

_Always Yours, Clint'_  

and placed the envelope into a hidden safe in the floor alongside the precious now ruined trading cards. 

Clint straightened and stared around at the apartment. His clothes were everywhere, there was food rotting in the sink and the fridge. Phil would hate him for it. And so, Clint ignored the fact that he was meant to be cleaning the city that day, and instead began picking up his clothes for the wash. 

\--

_Phil,_

_I read that a part of addiction therapy is writing a letter to someone you wronged. You know I’m not an addict but I thought fuck it, if this helps addicts why not me?_

_I have this dream about a job you, me and Nat did that went perfectly but in the dream (nightmare) you die. I step on a trigger and your SUV blows up. But then I find you away from the wreck with a stab wound and you tell me it’s my fault. Pretty sure Freud would have a field day with that one. With me._

_So, that’s a thing. Loads of fun._

_Ross tried to arrest me. Treason and terrorism. The others, the Avengers, wouldn’t let him. Even Bruce, the poor bastard. Stark called his lawyers and Steve went all military on us. You would’ve loved it, Phil. Captain America and Tony Stark protecting me from General Ross. I’m sure the only reason Nat didn’t do anything to him was cause she was keeping an eye on Bruce._

_I did tell them that I was fine going with him but they were fucking insistent. Then I skipped out on medical. Shot in the shoulder. Still hurts like a bitch. Test coming up in a week for it._

_I feel like I need to point out that this isn’t a suicide note. The thought did cross my mind but there was no way I could’ve done it. Nat would have ripped me to pieces._

_She’s doing well, by the way. I don't think she’s particularly happy with me at the moment but she’s good. Better than me. Probably out of spite._

_Bruce is still wary of us, especially Fury, but he and Stark are science buddies. I hope we won’t come to regret that._

_Stark is insane but tolerable and he makes missions a helluva lot more entertaining._

_I’m getting used to Thor. He’s a good guy and very loyal. Kinda like a puppy._

_Steve is Steve, I’m not jealous anymore. He’s an awesome guy, a great leader. He signed your damn cards despite the blood. I’ve got them in the safe._

_I’m living in the apartment and it’s filthy. Sorry. But cleaning was always your thing. I might clean it today._

_I’m on a civilian clean-up crew, if you can believe it. Keeps me busy and makes me feel like I’m fixing things. I helped bring the damn aliens here so the least I can do is help clean it up._

_The crew I’m on is run by this girl, Candy, who has been amazing. Her girlfriend, Sasha, doesn’t like me much but she puts up with me. Candy’s like the crazy sister I’ve always wanted._

_You remember how we used to joke that I would go first and the paperwork would kill you? I was kinda holding you to that one. We never thought you’d go before me, specially not_ because _of me. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Keep going, keep moving? Fuck that, I like wallowing._

_I miss you. More than I thought I could. I’m not the most emotional guy but I admit that I have cried. Am crying._

_Phil, I miss you and it’s my own goddamn fault. Loki used me to get into SHIELD, onto the Helicarrier. I did that. I got him in and got you killed. And it kills me that Fury was with you. I’m glad someone was with you, I just wish it hadn’t been him._

_Nat would’ve been best but she was busy re-calibrating my head. Hell, even Stark would’ve been better._

_I don't know what to do now, Phil. And I sure as hell don't know about the Initiative._

_I’ve had two “proper” missions with them besides New York and I kinda liked it (despite the bullet). Somehow we manage to work well together though I’m completely sure that’s Steve’s doing. He brings out the best in us. Nat seems to like the team._

_There’s something about these idiots that I like too. Working with them is easy and I don't need to think about our next moves. We all just clicked, I guess._

_Nothing like us, though. Nothing could compare to the way that we work together. I never did have to check where you were. I always knew that you would be there when I needed you. Always._

_I have no idea what else I should write apart from apologising. Your death was my fault, Phil, and I can’t forgive myself. You are the only one who can forgive me and I would give anything to hear you say it._

_Fury tried to convince me that I couldn't have been completely under Loki’s control, otherwise I would’ve shot him in the head instead of the chest cause I know he wears his vest into hostile situations. And, yeah, okay, that makes complete sense but if I fought that then why didn't I fight going onto the Helicarrier? Why did I let him take you away from me?_

_He took you from me, Phil. How am I meant to move on? How do I wake up and pretend that I wouldn’t rather be with you?_

_I don’t know what to do and that scares me a little. Cleaning the city helps more than I can say and I know that I’m not going to be able to stop until it’s all done and the city goes back to the regular old cesspit that it is._

_Anyway, I’ve got cleaning to do. Both the city and the apartment. You’d kill me if you saw this place. I amaze even myself with this._

_I’m sorry; I miss you; I love you._

_\-- Clint_

_P.S. Steve knows about us._

_I know you were worried about him sticking to the values of 1940s America but he hasn't. He’s adapted really well, though he still gets stuck on pop culture references and some tech stuff. But no homophobia, no sexism, no racism. He’s all good._

_Kinda what America could and should be._

_Stark’s trying to corrupt him though._


	9. Chapter Nine

Clint drew back the string on his bow and took less than a second to aim. He watched the arrow fly towards the target and smirked when the arrow hit dead centre. He moved forward as he drew and notched another arrow, aimed, loosed, and kept moving. 

The obstacle course had been designed by SHIELD's training department so that medical could test how Clint was healing from his gunshot wound. So far, so good. They had started him out with an overall medical before moving on to focus entirely on his shoulder. Almost two hours after they had started and Clint was finally using his bow. Apparently, they had needed to make sure that he could still throw a punch with his left. None of the trainers had been willing to test him personally, and so they had somehow convinced Natasha to do it for them. She now stood with the medical and training staff watching him with narrowed eyes.

Clint moved through the course easily and continued to hit the target every time. However, every time he pulled the bow taut the muscles in his shoulder screamed out in protest. He was forced to bite back a cry of pain each time and focused on aiming and moving. He knew that the staff would be watching him on their screens from the monitoring platform above him, but he could feel Natasha's eyes on him, scrutinizing his every move. Clint ignored her in favour of dropping into a forward roll and loosing another arrow when he came to a stop ten feet away from the final target. The arrow whistled through the air and stuck, quivering, into the heart of the cardboard man. 

Clint rolled to his feet, grinning, and waved his fingers at Natasha, who debased herself enough to smile back. He made his way out of the training area and took the stairs to the monitoring platform two at a time. All he wanted was to pass the medical so that he would be allowed his bow back -- which is why he hadn't once cried out in pain. They'd have made him wait another week at least.

'You're in pain,' Natasha said when he reached her.

'Not anymore,' Clint assured her. 'Besides, I've passed.' 

 You think,' Natasha said softly and turned towards the medical staff. Clint rolled his eyes but turned his attention to the medics anyway.

 'Your aim is fine -'

 'Perfect,' Clint interrupted. The doctor ignored him.

 '... though it seemed like you pulling a little harder than you normally do. I'm assuming there's still some stiffness?'

 'I suppose.' Clint shrugged and managed to hide a wince. Natasha shot him a dubious look.

 'That will pass. All of the tests suggest that your muscles have healed. I'm happy to put you back on active duty, so long as you keep him from doing too much.' The doctor directed this last bit at Natasha who nodded once in answer.

'I am able to care for myself,' Clint felt the need to point out. Natasha  _and_ the doctors gave him disbelieving looks.

 'Of course you can.' Natasha said her voice dripping with sarcasm, clasping his elbow and dragging him out. Clint shouted a thanks over his shoulder to the doctors. Natasha, he could see, looked amused and annoyed. Clint was used to this look.

 'What is it, Nat?' Clint asked gently.

 'You are an idiot.' Natasha let go of his elbow and took half a step away from him. 'I don't know why I bother with you, Barton.'

 'Neither do I. C'mon, what's up?'

 'Nothing,' Natasha shot back. 'I'm ... glad you're healing.'

 'Thanks, Nat,' Clint replied gently. 'And thanks for being there.'

 'Where else would I be?' She asked looking at him with genuine confusion. Clint grinned at her and they continued to walk in silence up to Fury's office. 

 Fury looked up at them when they walked in without knocking and didn't bother to indicate that they should sit. Natasha leaned against a filing cabinet and Clint stood before Fury's desk, arms crossed in front of his chest.

 'I see you passed,' Fury stated simply. 'Bout time, too. You're back on active duty, Barton, but we'll keep you away from action for another week at least. Just to be sure.' 

'Fine,' Clint said. 'Can I leave now?' Clint didn't wait for an answer and turned to leave again when the door flew open and Stark stomped in, followed closely by Steve, Bruce and Thor who all looked worried, nervous, and interested respectively. Stark pushed himself into Fury's space and Steve followed placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

'You.' Tony shoved a finger in Fury's face who didn't flinch. 'You are worse than I thought.'

'Tony,' Steve began. Stark waved a hand at him.

'Why’d you do it, Fury? Huh? Tell me, us, that.' Stark stared Fury down and, for a moment, Clint thought the director was going to hit Stark.  

'What are you talking about now, Stark?' Fury questioned, not a hint of emotion on his face or in his eye.

'I got into your system. JARVIS found some very ... odd things. Unaccounted medical personnel, strange power levels, missing medical equipment, stuff like that. Weird, huh?' The look at Stark's face was daring Fury to deny it, to say that Stark was imagining things. Fury remained silent.

'Tony? What are you getting at?' Bruce asked, looking between the two.

'Shall I tell them, Fury? Or would you like to?' Stark went to take a step forward but Steve held onto his arm though he didn't pull him back.

'Tony, tell us what you've found.' Steve was almost pleading with the man. Clint glanced at Fury whose focus was entirely on Stark. There was some expression on his face that Clint couldn't quite work out. Worry, maybe?

'He's being lying to us for months. And, personally, I hope one of them rips your eye out and makes you eat it.'

Clint suddenly had the odd sense that Stark was talking about him. The bottom of his stomach fell out and he stared between the director and Stark, his breathing shallow. 'Stark, what the fuck are you talking about?'

Stark looked pointedly at Fury again. 'Why don't you tell your agent what you've been up to?'

Fury, obviously not happy, turned towards Clint and glanced at Natasha. ‘Agent Coulson is alive.'

Clint instantly stopped listening. He was vaguely aware of Steve talking and then a small hand grasped his arm and forced him to sit. Steve was still talking, though he was no longer holding Stark back, and Bruce quickly sat beside him. Natasha remained standing, looking at Fury with a blank face.

'How?' The one, soft word from Natasha was enough to shut Steve up.

'Coulson slipped into a coma from his wounds. Goddamn magic.' Fury swore, shifting his weight almost imperceptibly. 'He was taken down to medical and underwent surgery. But they couldn't put him back together, not properly. The spear, the magic, did something to his body that stopped him healing properly. Infections, organ failure, the doctors fixed it all. He woke up for the first time yesterday. He's been waking up for longer and longer since then.'

'And now you will take us to see him.' Natasha spoke slowly and Clint stared up at her. She was leaning forward slightly, face emotionless, but her voice. Her voice was low and dangerous. Clint felt the sudden, inexplicable need to run. Fury didn't look much better.

'Fine,' Fury replied, turning and walking away. Natasha grasped Clint's arm and dragged him to his feet leading him out.

Clint barely paid attention to where they were going. He was aware of Stark muttering under his breath and Bruce standing close by him. Natasha had let go of his arm and was looking forward. Clint saw a brief flicker of emotion cross her face. Steve was still holding onto Tony's arm and Thor was alternating between glaring at Fury and looking worried. 

Clint felt like he was moving through a fog. He could see and hear and feel everything around him but he couldn't process any of it. The elevator moved down, the music floating through his mind, and when they finally came to medical Natasha gently guided him out but let him go again once they were walking down a corridor. Clint naturally fell to the back of the group, his feet moving without conscious direction. He just followed.

They pushed their way through several doors going to a part of medical that Clint, through the fog, did not recognise. Fury glanced back at them all before leading them to another door and holding it open. 

Lying on the only bed in the room was Phil Coulson. 

Clint froze in the doorway unable to move. Phil's eyes were closed but he was breathing. He looked peaceful as he had always done when he slept. He watched Natasha wrap her small hand around Phil's wrist, checking his pulse, and she relaxed, glancing at him and giving him a small nod. Clint glanced at Fury but, at Thor's happy exclamation of 'Well met, friend!' Clint twisted back. Phil had woken up and was staring at them all. Fury huffed and left them to it.

'I'm glad you're alive, Agent Coulson.' Steve lightly squeezed Phil's right shoulder. 

'Yeah, yeah, wonderful, get the fuck up so Hill won't be hovering.' Despite his flippancy it was obvious that Stark was glad Phil was alive. 

Natasha glanced over at Clint and rolled her eyes. 'Alright, out.' Natasha shooed them all out and lightly pushed Clint's shoulder in the direction of Phil. Clint didn't realise he had moved until Phil's fingers closed lightly around his wrist. Clint stared down at their hands and it suddenly hit him. 

_Phil was alive._

Clint sunk to his knees beside the bed, grabbed onto Phil's hand as though it was his lifeline, and pressed his forehead against the blankets. He could feel Phil shift forward, and then there were fingers running softly and reassuringly through his hair and down to the nape of his neck. Clint tightened his grip and let several sobs escape.

'Clint.' The groggy voice roused Clint and he looked up at Phil. Phil who was alive, exhausted but alive, and was smiling down at him. 

'Phil, I ... I'm sorry.' Clint's throat felt thick and his voice was rough.

'I know.' Phil's smile softened slightly. 'And you don't need to be.' Phil tugged on his hand to pull him up.

The press of Phil's lips against his was without a doubt the best thing Clint had ever felt. Phil's lips were chapped and dry but it didn't matter. Phil was alive and kissing him.

'Phil.' Clint pressed their foreheads together. 'I missed you,' he muttered.

Phil laughed at him again. 'I know. Clint, look at me.'

Clint cautiously opened his eyes. Phil was exhausted. There were deep bags under his bloodshot eyes. He seemed thinner than before and his skin was slowly regaining its colour. Yet his small smile lit up his eyes. Phil ran his thumb over the curve of Clint's cheekbone.

'You don't need to be sorry, Clint. There's nothing, _nothing_ , you need to apologise for. Not to me. Never to me.' Phil pressed another kiss to Clint's lips and scratched at the short hairs on his neck. Clint climbed onto the bed, straddling Phil's lap and pulled the left side of Phil's hospital gown down. A large, nasty scar marred the skin there. Phil pressed his hands against Clint's hips to ground him. Clint reached out and stroked the skin.

'I'm told it will fade,' Phil said. 

'It had better,' Clint muttered back.

Phil laughed quietly again, his fingers digging in to Clint's hips. Clint traced the scar with a single finger and felt Phil shudder beneath him. He was surprised to see that Phil's pupils were blown wide. 

'I missed you too,' Phil said, reading Clint's mind.

'You were in a coma,' Clint pointed out.

'And I still thought I had lost you.'

Clint didn't give him another chance to speak.

\--

Clint woke in the morning with Phil using his shoulder as a pillow. He stroked Phil's bare shoulder.

'Hmm, morning.' Phil sighed happily. 

'Morning,' Clint replied, pressing a kiss to Phil's hair. He would've been happy to lie there with Phil for hours but at that moment he heard heavy footsteps outside the room. Clint leaped off the bed and threw himself underneath Phil's bed. Above him, Phil shifted around on the bed, no doubt making himself presentable, and threw one of Clint's socks at him. Clint barely managed to grab the rest of his clothes before the door opened. Although people knew they were together it still probably wasn't a great idea to be found naked in bed together.

'Good morning, Director,' Phil said above him. Clint resisted the urge to groan. Cockblocked by their boss. Figures.

'Agent. How you feelin'?' Fury sat down in the chair beside the bed and Clint had the sudden urge to stab Fury's feet.

'Much better, thank you.' Phil shifted again to get comfortable no doubt. 'Sir, is your nose broken?' Clint barely suppressed a laugh.

'It is not broken,' Fury ground out. 'Fractured, yes.'

'I didn't hear about any missions last night.' There was barely hidden mirth in Phil’s voice.

'Romanov.' Fury supplied. Clint grinned at the mattress above him.

'Ah, that does explain it.'

'Stark was hoping you, Romanov, or Barton would rip out my eye and make me eat it.' Clint could've sworn he heard amusement in the director's voice.

'Stark?' Phil sounded surprised. 

'Yes,' Fury replied. 'I want you to take a break. Take a vacation somewhere.'

'Is that an order, sir?' 

'And take Barton with you.' Fury stood up. 'Do you hold it against me? Keeping this secret?'

'For the most part, no, I don't. They needed a reason, a push. But, Clint? Him, you could have, should have, told.'

'Yeah, well, I didn't.' Fury walked away and when he reached the door he turned back. 'It's good to have you back, agent. And get off the damn floor, Barton.'

 


	10. Epilogue

Mid-morning sun streamed in through the open window and fell across Clint's naked chest. He was sprawled out on the bed, sheets pushed to the foot, leisurely stretching his arms above his head. He and Phil had been staying at the apartment, uninterrupted, for a week now, and Clint had somehow managed to convince Phil to spend most of that time in bed. He still wasn't fully healed, neither of them were, but he looked far better than he had in medical. 

Clint pulled the sheets up to his hips and half sat up against his pillow and the head board. He could just hear the kettle just beginning to boil in the kitchen. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of Phil moving around making coffee. The simple sounds made Clint feel all fuzzy. It meant that it hadn't been a dream. 

For the first few days, Clint had woken every morning believing it had all been some wonderfully horrible dream and every night he went to sleep fearing that Phil would disappear. But that hadn't happened. Yet.

The smell of coffee reached his nose and Clint opened his eyes to see Phil standing in the doorway wearing a smile and his stupid tartan dressing gown, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. Clint smiled back and reached out for the mug Phil passed him, and pressed his shoulder against Phil's when the man had settled on the bed with him after stripping out of the dressing down and slipping under the sheet.

'It's about time you woke up,' Phil murmured into his coffee. 

'Sorry, sir,' Clint replied with a smile. 'Too hot to do anything.'

'It's only 86 out.'

'Too hot,' Clint repeated twisting to kiss Phil's shoulder. 

The scar was fading, as promised. It was no longer pink and puckered. Phil laughed silently and Clint rested his head on that shoulder. Seeing the scar didn't hurt any more. The guilt was still there, it would never leave him, but it was easier. 

'Whatever you say, Clint.'

'That's the idea,' Clint replied automatically.

Phil suddenly reached out to the table beside the bed and held out his Captain America trading cards covered in blood.

'Fury owes me a new set,' Phil deadpanned. 

'I did put in a requisition order but Hill told me to get stuffed,' Clint said. 

'Of course she did,' Phil said, shifting through the cards, pulling out his favourite which also happened to be soaked in the most blood. 'He had to use this one first, didn't he? And I'm not sure if Hill knew I was alive, either.'

'I find it hard to believe. I did look for new ones for you.'

'You did?' 

Clint couldn't blame him for being surprised. 'Looked fucking everywhere. Online anyway. Even emailed the guy you got some of them from. Said you had the only ones of some of them.'

'He was right.' Phil held his favourite up. 'There are only two others of this one. One is in a museum and Howard Stark had the other.'

Clint abruptly remembered where he had put the cards: in the safe. With the letter. He sat up and stared wide eyed at Phil, who was still looking down at his cards with a faint frown.

'Did you get those from the safe?' Clint said in a quiet voice. 

Phil turned to look at him. Clint twisted his body away from the man he loved and stared pointedly at the wall. He’d been meaning to re-paint the bedroom for years. Now was a good time to go pick a colour, right?

‘Yes, I found your letter.’ Phil reached out and ran his hand over Clint’s back. ‘It was very well written.’

‘Bite me, Coulson.’ Clint tried to stand, to escape, but Phil grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to lay down, straddling him.

‘Stay,’ he ordered. ‘You need to listen to me. Please, Clint. What happened to me? Was not your fault.’ Phil pressed a hand over Clint’s mouth before he could speak. ‘It is not your fault. There is no way you could have known that Loki would stab me, no way you could’ve known that I would have gone after him.’

‘Yes, I should’ve,’ Clint said when he managed to rip Phil’s hand away. ‘I know you better than anyone else. You always go to where the trouble is and you never think twice about it. You put yourself before others and you died. Phil, you died, you _left_ me,’ Clint finally accused.

Phil pressed their foreheads together. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right, Clint. I left you, betrayed you, and I’m sorry.’

‘Wait, betrayed? How the fuck do you come to that?’

‘I promised that I would never leave you and I did.’

‘No, no, no, no.’ Clint reached up and pulled Phil into a kiss. ‘No betrayal on your part. I’m the one who betrayed you. I got you killed.’

‘Loki killed me.’

‘I got him onto the Helicarrier,’ Clint shot back, glancing back at the wall. Maybe light green.

‘Yes, you did. While being mind-controlled. Clint, Fury was right. No, no speaking. Listen to me, Barton. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. There is nothing you could’ve done to stop Loki or me. You know me, Clint, so you know there is nothing I wouldn’t have done to stop him.’

‘Nat said you made her promise to bring me back. She said you sounded as though you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself.’

Phil looked down at him and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Clint’s mouth. ‘She was right. I didn't think I would get to you first. I didn’t think I would be stabbed by Loki later on either. I made her promise because I needed to know that someone I trusted would be able to save your sorry butt. And I knew that Natasha would never let either of us down. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ Clint replied, still avoiding Phil’s eyes as much as he could. Phil should hate him. He should not be apologising.

Phil reached out and gently grasped Clint's chin, forcing his head towards him. 'Eyes on me, Barton.' Phil smiled at him. 'I forgive you, Clint. I forgive you.'

'You shouldn't,' Clint replied, eyes sliding away to the wall again.

'And yet I have. Clint, please, look at me.' Phil's soft, demanding voice cut through Clint's determined wall-staring focus.

Clint twisted back to Phil and pressed his forehead against the side of Phil's neck. Phil curled his arms around Clint, holding him close.

'Why? Why would you forgive me?' Clint drew in a breath, the scent of Phil almost overpowering him. 'I killed agents, I got civilians killed, I got you killed. Don't tell me that it wasn't my fault or that I couldn't have done anything or that some part of me had stayed me cause I didn't kill Fury. None of that crap helps. I did all of that and that, that guilt won't go away. It can't go away, Phil, so how can you forgive me? Why?' 

Clint had not noticed that he had begun to sob. The tears came freely and hard. Phil rubbed Clint's back, whispering nonsense words, and pressed kisses to Clint's hair. 

'I forgive you because I love you, Clint. Do I need another reason? Do _you_ need another reason?' 

'Yes,' Clint choked out, unmoving. 'You can't forgive me just cause you love me. That's stupid, its not a reason. It's an excuse. Like saying I can't be blamed because Loki was forcing me.'

'But, Clint, that's exactly why you can't be blamed.' Phil pulled back slightly and pressed a light kiss to the corner of Clint's mouth, holding his face between his hands. 'I love you and I do not blame you. I blame Loki. There is no one else I can blame. I forgive you, Clint, because I want to. There is nothing else that matters to me more than you. I am sorry that I left you, that I hurt you. I trusted Natasha to get you back because she will always drag you back to me, and me to you. I am sorry you felt alone, betrayed; I am sorry you felt as though no one trusted you. I am sorry that you blamed yourself. I am sorry for what Fury did. I am sorry that you were left to carry this weight on your shoulders alone, though willingly. I am sorry, Clint. I am sorry for it all and if I could change it I would gladly to do it to save you from this guilt, this anger, this blame. I would do it in a heartbeat because I love you and I forgive you, and that has not, will not, cannot, change.

'Clint, I don't blame you for what happened because I know you to well to believe that you could _ever_ be to blame for any of this. There is no way that I can believe you were at all responsible for the attack on the Helicarrier or for the attack on New York. You are not responsible for any of it. Clint, this is not on you. I forgive you completely and utterly. I do not hold you responsible, neither does Natasha or any of the others. Please, Clint, please, stop blaming yourself.' Phil pressed their foreheads together and looked straight in Clint's eyes (soul). 'Clint, I love you and that hasn't changed. Listen to me, Clint. You. Are. Forgiven.' Phil emphasized this last with three kisses: one to the forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. 

Clint has listened closely as Phil spoke and found himself desperately clinging to his words. They washed over him, pushing down the pain and the guilt and the anger. The feelings dissipated, deep down enough to stop the aching in his heart. For the first time in a very, _very_ long time, Clint felt calm, light. Phil was there with him and he clearly wasn't going anywhere, not willingly at least. Clint pressed himself against Phil again and breathed deep. 

Clint could Phil's heartbeat pounding in his ears as he held him close and tight. 'I missed you, Phil. I didn't know what to do.'

'I know, I know. But you have done so well.' Phil twisted them both so that Clint ended up on his back looking up at the man he loved. 'I am so proud of you, Clint. You are an incredible person and I couldn't imagine anyone I would rather be with than you. Also, I want to meet Candy.'

'No,' Clint replied, shuddering at the thought of the two of them teaming up. 'Absolutely not. That would be bad for my health.' 

Phil snickered, his eyes dancing with mirth, and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Clint's lips. Clint grinned up at him and slipped a hand into Phil's hair dragging him down for a deeper kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with this story!
> 
> While this is the end of _Coming Home_ there are going to be stories in this series if you're at all interested.
> 
> Thank you again!


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